


The Magic We Made

by starspangler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Arguing, Babies, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Children, Drugs, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Feels, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Relationship, Gambling, Growing Up, Happy Ending, Loneliness, Marriage Contracts, Memory Charms, Motherhood, Original Character(s), Other, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Depression, Rough Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangler/pseuds/starspangler
Summary: •The Ministry Of Magic passes a new law to say that all pureblood wizards and witches are to marry and produce children of their blood to ensure that the population is balanced in the wizarding world after the war that destroyed them. However, they are only married with muggleborns.Hermione must face the cosequences of this war, and finds herself trapped in a web with the Malfoy family. They require the couple to have at least one half-blood child, or they are sentenced to Azkaban. But, as time goes on, things in this law seem to be getting more and more suspicious.More so—is Hermione too young to be a mother? Will she cope with the emotional trauma? And importantly, will Draco help her with it?





	1. Chapter 1

Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly for Hermione the day she got the letter. The letter, that all witches and wizards from around the wizarding world who were not pureblooded got on their doorstep (like any normal letter), instead, to find out that they are to be married to someone — perhaps a friend, an enemy, or just completely a stranger. This letter was sealed handsomely on the front with a scarlet red wax, etched with the fancy letters of “MoM” (The Ministry of Magic).

It was a new law forcing pureblooded wizards and witches from everywhere to marry other magical folk whom were not pureblooded and reproduce to ‘guarantee an equal society in the wizarding world’, according to the ministry. It was blatantly obvious what the ministry was saying — and it was basically a hard middle finger to muggleborns. Many people were already revolting, though they usually got caught and taken into custody.

Hermione clutched her wine glass tightly, feeling as though it would crack any second. She kept staring at the letter, far too terrified to open it. She was sat alone on the living room sofa, in a lazy position in which she was sleeping, until Harry burst into the room waving her letter about. He too, would be married off to some pureblooded witch. Hermione felt a twinge of pain as she looked into the emerald eyes that were cracked with hurt.

Harry was forced to call off the marriage with Ginny when the law came out, much to both their despair. Ginny was to be married to some other man, leaving Harry heartbroken. He had appreciated Hermione’s company, she could tell, but there was always a faraway, deep somber look in his eyes...

Clutching her clothes, she inhaled a sharp breath, preparing for the worst. Carefully opening the letter, the seal sticking through the thin paper, she read through the almost unreadable handwriting, her eyes glued to almost every word.

 

**Name: Hermione Jean Granger**

**Blood Status: Muggleborn**

**Gender: female**

 

**The Ministry of Magic confirms that _Hermione Jean Granger_ is to be married to a pureblood male and reproduce at least one half-blood child. **

**Please note:**

**If these expectations are not met, the Ministry of Magic _will take action immediately._**

**_Hermione Jean Granger,_ you will be removed from your position as deputy to the Minister of Magic. You will serve as a housewife to your husband, and mother to your  child/children. This means that you will, under law, never achieve the Minister of Magic position.**

**O.W.L results will affect your only salary. Your **O.W.L results were mostly O’s and a few E’s, therefore you will receive the salary of: 19 galleons, 8 sickles and 2 knuts per month.****

****Your betrothed:** **

****Draco Lucius Malfoy.** **

****The wedding will take place in exactly 3 weeks time, on March the 15th. During these weeks before the wedding, you will spend time with your betrothed and (hopefully) warm up to him.****

****Sincerely,** **

****The Ministry of Magic (circa, 1498)****

Hermione stopped reading, her mind blank yet somehow all of these thoughts where fizzing freshly in her mind. She blinked, hoping all of this was just a very cruel joke. She snorted at her own stupidity, of course it wasn’t a joke! Her own friends have been victims of this, and they were being married off. She stared at the name they chose to be her husband.  _Draco Malfoy._ She was to be a Malfoy. Her old school bully was now to be her husband and future father of her children.

She felt like her stomach was constricting very quickly, she felt hot tears coming, yet they never came. She never wanted this, and now she had lost her job, her purpose just to pop out some children for a Malfoy, like some cheap mistress. She knew, that somewhere, Draco had also got the same letter, and was probably reacting in a very similar way.

_At least he doesn’t have to lose his job like the big rich prat that he is. Did he even have a job?_

Harry sat on the other side of the room, his legs crossed on top of an armchair. He was reading the Daily Prophet — which had the headlines of ‘new ministry law has families in shambles’. He was closely watching her face as he sipped a bitter cup of tea. “Was it that bad?” He sighed, rubbing a hand quickly through his messy brown hair (which still, never seemed to tidy or flatten down).

Hermione snapped her head up to look at him. “Very bad,” she hissed under her breath. She neatly tucked her now frizzy hair (bristled with anger) along her ear. Her eyes narrowed. They had won the war, yes, so shouldn’t the Ministry learn their lesson? She had basically just graduated from Hogwarts. She had just turned 18 last year. She knew that she was far too young to be a mother and have that kind of responsibility.

Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Who is it?” Hermione nearly bared her teeth at him since she was in such a rage. “Malfoy.” She managed through gritted teeth. She could see Harry’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “Oh Merlin, Hermione, I—“ he, however couldn’t seem to finish his sentence, he was in such a shock.

Hermione didn’t look back at him, she could only simply stare at the piece of paper clutched in her hand. She furrowed her brow in intense frustration. She turned to Harry once more. “Do you think that you could contact the Malfoy’s to arrange a meeting before the wedding?” Harry stared at her, his eyes shining with a mix of confusion and slight amusement.

”You’re meant to meet with him anyway, before the wedding — I’m sure the Malfoy’s are already arranging to talk with you, knowing them,” Harry sighed, reopening his newspaper. “I say — just wait for the Malfoy’s to come knocking at our door or for them to send a letter.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, her eyes now fixed on the letter yet again. It was hard to imagine her having Malfoy’s children, being a mother to some blonde child, that had her eyes; just  _knowing_ that a child could have both her and Malfoy’s traits.

She grimaced bitterly at her thoughts. It disgusted her beyond belief. And, this nightmare was coming true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione faces her fears and meets with her future betrothed to discuss the marriage. She also questions the minister of magic, and gains a slight insight as to why this law even exists.

The days progressed, as Hermione became more and more confused and angry. She couldn’t seem to figure it all out — why this law even existed? And why it was still being passed as a law even though it had already ruined many people’s lives already (and it was passed just about a week ago).

Hermione then had the idea to take it upon herself to confront the Minister of Magic (her past rightful job) and question him about all of this. It wouldn’t be exactly hard — since the Minister of Magic is former order member Kingsley Shaklebolt. She had sent a rather threatening/angry letter to him demanding that they meet at Grimmauld Place the following week.

She hadn’t got a reply, but still persisted in going to Grimmauld Place anyway, certain, or at least hopeful that he would be there, waiting for her. She came off the rocky road from the busy streets of London, going into a dark alleyway where she could see blacked (with dirt, presumably) rats scurrying around the narrow pathway, squeaking meekly and looking up in surprise at her when she strode past them, wary not to get bitten. 

She grimaced as one decided to jump across her foot to escape, looking at the scruffy creature and being instantly reminded of Peter Pettigrew — a man whom betrayed Harry’s father and his friends: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. He had died during the Wizarding War, however she, Harry and Ron did not know how he died, and didn’t really care all that much, so long as he was dead.

Coming out of the alleyway, she was facing a dimly-lit street with an empty road and houses (or apartments, as some muggles called them) all lined tightly near each other. Out of her robe pocket, she pulled out a handsome silver lined cigarette lighter and clicked the latch on top of it, watching as all the street lights popped, and all she could see was the heavy noir of the night. She concentrated when walking, thinking to herself.

_The headquarters of The Order of the Pheonix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld place, London._

And just like that, a dirty door with a silver, emerald eyed serpant emerged suddenly between numbers eleven and thirteen, though Hermione knew that the muggles inside these houses couldn't suspect a thing, as it was probably sealed by some kind of charm. The door, or house, wasn't exactly welcoming. She approached the door with silent caution, looking around to see if anyone could see her. Now certain that no one was looking, Hermione tapped her wand on the door once.

 _"Alohomora."_ She whispered softly.

The door that made a sound like a latch on the other side being slowly released. It creaked open, making a dreadful squeaking sound that made Hermione cringe.

She stepped inside, her small heels making an echo of a clicking sound on the wooden floorboards. Despite being used as the order’s headquarters, the room still looked as drab as ever. The cobwebs still clinging to corners of the the walls or ceilings, the bookshelves and just general furniture dusty, looking unused. Hermione didn’t dare touch anything, lest she get dirt all over her.

She went into the hallway, and into the kitchen off of the hallway, and found a relatively clean chair to sit on (she still had to brush some leftover dust off of it). Waiting, she clutched her hands together and laid them on her cheek, looking at the old-fashioned grandfather clock tick it’s way into time, agonisingly slowly.

The time hit whenever Hermione has told Kingsley to meet her, and she stood up a little straighter, hoping to hear a faint sound of a wand tapping the door any minute now. Seconds turned into minutes, then into hours, and Hermione began to grow impatient.

 _How dare be not show up?_ She thought bitterly. Just as she was about to put on her outerwear robes (for it was very cold), a figure came through the creaking door, looking rather annoyed or stressed. Looking upon the new intruder with narrowed eyes she realised it was the minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

”About time you showed up,” she huffed, putting her cloak back on the hanger. “I’ve been waiting here since midnight.”

Kingsley looked at her incredulously. “I’m sorry, Miss Granger, but I am the Minister of Magic. I cannot simply just walk out of Wizengamot whenever I like,” He took a seat on one of the chairs without bothering to take his coat off. “But, you asked to see me, and then whatever is it you want to talk about?”

Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration. “You  _know_ what I want to talk about,” Kingsley looked at her with a cool calmness in his eyes, level to Hermione’s. “The new marriage law,  _why?_ ” Kingsley took in a deep breath, clearly a lot of people had already asked him this question.

”What about it? It was to help the Wizarding population after the war, and it  _will.”_ Hermione huffed at his patronising tone. “ _Do not_ talk to me as if i’m a child!”

“I want to know why you signed it—why you approved this terrible law!” She ground out. Kingsley blinked once before answering. “I signed it because I knew it would help the Wizarding community,” Hermione furrowed her brow in anger. 

“ _What?_ You think that breeding muggle-borns and purebloods without their consent or making women lose their jobs to raise their children is a benefit to the Wizarding Community?” Hermione presses on, her fists balling. Kingsley signed yet again, as if she was asking a stupid question.

”You don’t understand, Hermione—I had to do this. I didn’t want this to happen, but I promise, it IS for the good of the people,” his voice began to slowly quieten down as he started talking more.

He put one warm hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “Just trust me,” he whispered, now. Putting another hand in his robe pocket, and Hermione could hear a faint crinkle of paper moving about. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. 

“Do not look at it yet. Listen to me: open it when you feel much more secure in marriage, read very carefully and follow the instructions on it.” He instructed in such a monotone voice, that it made Hermione feel slightly uncomfortable.

”Wai—“

However, she was cut off momentarily because Kingsley was already near the doorway. “The auror’s will get suspicious if I stay here too long.” And with that, he vanished with the speed of light, and with it, Hermione’s hope.

* * *

 

A few days had passed since her interrogation, if you could even call it one, with Kingsley. Hermione became grumpier very passing day, and poor Harry (whom took care of her, and visited her apartment frequently) had to put up with her incessant moodiness — it was almost like she were a teenager again, suffering from mood swings like she used to.

Her apartment, once decorated with all kinds of practical objects, were now all cleared out. Since she was to be moved to Malfoy manor, she had sadly (and regrettably) concluded that she wouldn't need the apartment anymore, and decided to put it up for sale. She had, however, decided to keep a few things that she would be moving into the manor, wether the Malfoy's liked it or not.

She had been packing her last cardboard box for moving, when Harry came in to tell her that the Malfoy's were coming over soon, and that she'd better be ready. She turned to Harry with a tired look in her eyes, and his expression almost instantly softened with sympathy. "Who are you marrying, Harry?" She asked, while packing a toaster into the box.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck (which was a habit he had when he got nervous/embarrassed). "Daphne Greengrass." He managed out, with seemingly big effort. Hermione's eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Really? Not as bad as I thought..." She trailed off at the sight of Harry's eyes glinting with resentment. "She's a stuck-up pureblooded Slytherin bitch!" Harry snapped, and Hermione flinched slightly at his sudden tone of voice. "She'll hate me, since I'm such a dirty little half-blood!" Harry made a sickening baby impression, which horribly reminded Hermione of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione softened and lowered her head in apology. "I know, I just meant that..." She tried to find the words to say, without tipping Harry over the edge. "At least she isn't a former death eater." And with that, she took the last ornament in her hand to pack into the cardboard box.

She froze as she looked at it. It was a picture of a younger, possibly 5th year her, smiling along with Harry and the Weasley family. She suddenly felt sick as she looked at Ron. They had shared something during the Battle of Hogwarts, but had concluded that it was nothing more than an infatuation. He had returned to dating Lavender, and then she was brutally murdered in the battle.

Ron deserved better than this, she knew. And know he was probably being married off to a half-blooded or muggleborn witch. She felt a slight twinge of jealousy. Whoever he was going to be with, she'd better treat him right. _He deserves the best._

"Worst part is, she's a redhead...she'll remind me of Ginny..." Hermione could faintly hear Harry mumble to himself on the other side of the room.

She could then hear a faint knock on the door. Panicking, she quickly stuffed the portrait of her and the Weasley's into the big cardboard box, now very full. She could see that Harry seemed to know who it was. He looked it at her and whispered something that looked like ' _good luck'._

She nodded gratefully. Taking a deep breath, and trying to smoothen down her still frizzy hair, she slowly took some steps to the door. Clearly, she was taking to slow, because she then heard something that sounded like a cane being rapped on the door, much louder.

_Oh Merlin, is his father there too?_

Taking a shaky breath, she summoned all of the courage she could and wrapped her now sweaty hand around the doorknob, opening the door slowly, and there she could see two Malfoy's glaring at her with such a distain, she felt like an insect that had gotten in the way of their delicious food. She felt worthless and disgusting under their icy glares.

"Malfoy." She spoke, hoping that her voice didn't waver. Draco looked much more grown up than when she last saw him in 7th year, which was only a year ago. His eyebrows were darker and seemed to arch in a perfect shape, his jawline much more pronounced, his shoulders a little more broader, yet still tame compared to his father next to him, his blonde hair now not platinum, but a slightly darker blonde; was slicked back.

Clearly he could notice her staring at him for a little to long, because a knowing sneer plastered his mouth. "Granger. Can we come in?" His voice seemed to also be a little deeper too, and his accent was dripping with such a sickening sweetness it made her head a little dizzy.

She forced herself to narrow her eyes, and then parted herself from blocking the entrance, letting Draco and his father in. Lucius looked very similar to how he did in the battle, only, perhaps a little bit worse. He seemed to be more thin, eye bags much more pronounced and faint wrinkles pulling at his once young face. He also didn't smell all that good, _was that wine she could smell?_

"So _this_ is where you live, Granger," Draco sniffed disdainfully at her apartment, looking at how everything was packed. She felt slightly humiliated. Her apartment was much messier and smaller than the manor, of course he would look down on it! _I should have cleaned it up..._

 _"_ Yes, I know it looks like a mess, Malfoy, but I'm putting it up for sale when I move in with you." She sighed, he was already trying her patience, and that was definitely not a good sign.

"Which will be today, Granger," he said quickly, looking with interest at the television that was all wrapped up. Hermione could also see, that Lucius and Harry (who was sat on the stairs) seemed to be having a glaring contest with looks that could kill. Hermione gulped as she turned to Draco again, who was sneering at her. "I do hope you have packed what you need?"

Hermione nodded firmly. She turned to the box, to which Draco looked at, and wrinkled his nose at. "How do you live here? Full of muggles, I can hear them in the other room!" He snarled, clearly indicating towards her loud neighbors, who were bashing against the walls, listening to a fast-paced pop song.

"You get used to it after a while." She replied simply, to which Draco snorted with clear disgust. Hermione was only surprised that he hadn't called her a 'mudblood' yet. Taking out something from his pocket, which in the corner of Hermione's eye looked like sand, he called out to his father (who hadn't taken his gaze off of Harry) and then to Hermione.

Upon, closer inspection, she could see that it was floo powder. She looked up at Draco. "So that's how we're getting back to your manor? Magical transportation?" She hissed under her breath. "We will make a suspicious amount of noise, Malfoy. If the muggles hear—"

"Calm down, Granger, they won't hear." Draco cut her rudely off. She shot him a glare that spoke: ' _and how will they not hear a literal earthquake happen next door to them?_. Harry got up and smiled at Hermione. It was certainly like they were speaking in some sort of facial language, because she could see in Harry's face that he was wishing her the best. Smiling back at him, she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Be sure to write to me, Harry," she whispered in his ear before backing away and getting her box ready, tucking it neatly under one arm. Harry smiled. "I will." Draco shot the two of them a confused look before snorting and handing his father and Hermione a generous amount of the powder.

Without warning or hesitation, Draco spoke clearly. "Malfoy Manor." And with that, his body erupted into green flames, and disappeared into thin air. Lucius was next, and as he spoke, Hermione could notice that his voice was very hoarse and weak, but, he nonetheless disappeared in the same way Draco did.

"Goodbye, Harry." Hermione whispered. She didn't really like using floo powder, since it was a rather rough way to transport, and could easily go wrong—but it was the quickest way to get to the other side of the country. "Malfoy Manor." She spoke as clearly as she could, dropping the powder, and feeling her body separate from the world.

Clutching as tightly as she could on the sealed box she was carrying, she gasped in pain and awe. She had almost forgotten what this sensation felt like, it felt as if she were falling in midair—

—and before the could finish her thoughts, she hit the floor ungracefully. With a grunt, she could see that her box was still intact, and looking up, that she was in the massive Malfoy manor. She quickly fixed her hair before returning to the cold glares of the two Malfoy's in front of her, looking not a hair out of place. They both had a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.

Lucius was the first to speak over the deafening silence. "Well, when you are ready, Miss Granger, you and Draco will discuss the marriage terms." And with that, he left the room to both her and Draco. They just stood their awkwardly for a few moments.

"What are your terms, then, Malfoy?" She gritted through her teeth. She hated how this was all his idea—clearly he wanted to be the one to control her in the relationship; well, if he thinks that, he's in for a big shock. 

"My terms?" Draco raised an arched eyebrow, and sat down on one of the sofa's, which looked very padded and was a shiny, leathery black. She sat down, instantly feeling comfortable, and she then leaned her arm on the one of the armrests. "I have many terms, Granger. Let's see how you handle them."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously, expecting Malfoy to pull out some sort of long parchment. Instead, he spoke clearly, leaning into her direction with a shit-eating smirk plastered across his face. "Firstly, you are now the Lady Malfoy of this house, therefore you will stay only on the grounds," Hermione's eyes widened furiously. "We can't have you strolling around Diagon Alley whenever you want, can we?" He drawled lazily. 

He then snapped his fingers and ordered a nervous-looking house elf to fetch him some champagne. "When you _do_ want to go out, you must inform me. I will then decide whether you go or not. I will also always accompany you if you are allowed out." Hermione's eye twitched with such an anger, she felt her vision blurring. So, she was to be trapped inside this manor forever.

"Secondly, you will _not_ be allowed to free any of the house elves," his eyes glinted dangerously. "If you do, _both me and my father will be most displeased_." His voice dripped with venom. Hermione nodded, her fingers beginning to tangle with each other, to keep her distracted from hitting her future husband across his stupid face.

"Then, you will also be able to decorate the household as you please, just not my father's private quarters. You will also have a personal stylist to help you get ready everyday," Hermione's mouth was pulled into a frown. " _I do know_  how to get dressed everyday, Malfoy."

Draco snorted indignantly. "No—for parties and formal meetings which we have at the household a lot nowadays, since father is still a political figure at the ministry." Hermione watched as the house elf set two glasses of champagne on the small table in between them. She quickly snatched one and drowned it down as if her life depended on it.

"Oh, and the ministry requires us to conceive a child within at _least_ two weeks after the wedding," Hermione almost spat out her drink. Draco chuckled, his voice wavering slightly. "Yes, I understand your pain, Granger." He then turned to one of the house elves and ordered her (or him, Hermione couldn't tell) to give Hermione a tour around the Manor, since it was huge.

Getting up at the same time as him, Hermione clenched her fists. "You can't be sober if you think that I will sleep with you two weeks after this awful marriage." Draco turned to her, his grip on the champagne glass had tightened, Hermione had noticed.

He suddenly, and very sharply gripped on Hermione's wrist, a grotesquely dangerous sneer on his face. Hermione winced slightly, his grip was very strong, for it began to hurt a bit.

" _Oh,_ Believe me, the feeling is mutual,  _mudblood_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, A lot of people got with confused with Harry being married off to someone else. So let me explain: the ministry disagreed with the famous Harry Potter marrying a blood traior or a Weasley, so they thought it would be more fitting that Harry would be matched to Daphne, a more 'appropriate' match.
> 
> And yes, Daphne in my mind is a redhead, but not ginger. She has actual red hair. Anyway, I will try and keep a sustainable update schedule, so be ready for more chapters coming your way!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it so far! :)  
> — starspangler


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has to get used to her surroundings of the Malfoy manor, while there, she learns a little more about the history there and tries to keep Draco from murdering her with his scathing words.

" _Oh,_ believe me the feeling is mutual, _mudblood_."

Those horrid words gritted through Draco's teeth haunted her all night. She couldn't sleep, and had insisted that it would be on the sofa, after she had passed out from drinking far too much champagne. Now, the Malfoy's probably thought she was some kind of sad drunk.

This marriage was going to be awful—oh god, she _knew_ it could only end in disaster. She had been shown around the massive house a number of times by the house elves, though sometimes she would forget where she was, since the hallways were strangely identical to her, and got lost in the midst of figuring out where she actually was supposed to be.

For a long period of time, she spent her time locking her herself in her own private study (to which she had decorated with relaxing things, such as her favourite books and a number of candles that gave off the scent of pinecones and citrus fruit) waiting for Harry to reply to the numerous letters she had sent him, venting about just how terrible this whole ordeal was going.

Whilst drinking a warm cup of chamomile tea, which was in a very expensive China, Draco's owl came hooting nearby and fluttered through the open window, and sat himself on Hermione's desk, dropping the letter, looking pleased with himself. Hermione nodded her thanks to the scary, eagle-looking owl, and it flew back to it's cage to have a good sleep.

She knew just by looking at the letter, it was from Harry. Hastily sealed, clearly rushed stamp that looked like it skidded and made a strange smudge on the corner of the letter, and a messy scribble that read ' _To Hermione'_ on the front. She sighed happily to herself, now knowing that her efforts to contact him had not gone unnoticed.

She eagerly opened the seal of the letter, a cheap white paper slid out with all his messy writing all over it, ink blobs splattered around the page here and there. She read it carefully:

_To Hermione,_

_I have read your letters, and Merlin, it sounds like you are in a really bad state right now; Malfoy doesn't deserve you! Anyway, as you asked in your previous letter, my marriage with Daphne is okay..._

_She decided to move in with my house, spotted a few old photos of me and Ginny, so she wasn't too happy about that. She's all in all pretty nice, has a very bad temper if you come across it, is pretty feisty (just like Ginny, unfortunately), she can cook really well!_

_I suppose she's just happy that she got paired with the 'chosen one' instead of some muggleborn. We haven't really done anything yet, apart from awkwardly sleeping in the same bed together._

_I hope that Draco will eventually treat you right, like he should do. You said that his father looked like a drunk? Be sure that he doesn't hurt you, if he's an alcoholic, bad shit can happen, trust me Hermione I've seen those muggle dramas on television, it never ends well with someone like that._

_I hope that next time I see you, you will be having some child and won't have to ever sleep with the little ferret again. If it's blonde, be sure to tell me so I can prepare..._

 

_Your good friend,_

_Harry._

Hermione snorted at the last part which was strangely neat and fancy compared to the other messy scribbles of writing. She smiled to herself, took another sip of her tea, which finished it, and and opened the drawer in the desk which contained some parchments for letters.

Taking one out, she prepared her handsome, silver-lined quill to be dipped into the ink bottle and write—but then Crookshanks burst through the door, running up to Hermione and rubbing against her leg, purring softly. Hermione knew what this meant, for she had owned this cat for 5 years now, and it meant that he wanted food.

Getting up reluctantly, she dragged herself out of the room and downstairs to where the large kitchen was, where they fed the dogs and Crookshanks. Crookshanks did not seem to mind the two playful Irish wolfhounds, and mostly ignored them, which was a miracle, since most cats would screech and scratch at the two large dogs.

The way to the kitchen through the manor was a tiring experience. The hallway was the large, spacious area where most of the downstairs rooms were connected to. It was strangely dimly lit, decorated with expensive furniture and paintings of what Hermione assumed was Malfoy ancestors. The floor was stone, and very cold if you were walking barefoot, so Hermione made sure that she should always wear slippers when she went downstairs.

Their was a magnificent chandelier with what looked like silver crystals, glistening in the sunlight that was streaming through the massive windows. That was the drawing room, where the Malfoy's would through the most eccentric and electrifying soirée's. 

Hermione then went into the kitchen, which was just as expensive-looking as the drawing room. It was tiled, with lots of cupboards and counters to fit lots of food in. There were massive windows, with white curtains lined with rose gold. The bowls for the animals were in the corner of the room. Getting a can of cat food from the cupboard (which was from the muggle world — Hermione had not told them she packed muggle items), she opened it with effort and poured it into the bowl, to which Crookshanks ate happily.

 Watching as her cat gobbled the food down right away, Hermione decided that she felt rather peckish as soon as she stepped foot inside the lavish kitchen. Opening another one of the cupboards, to which the black handles were small, curled snakes, snarling up at her, she lazily used a levitation charm to make some  _Longley farm banana yogurt_ to come out of the cupboard.

Opening a drawer quickly, and grabbing a golden spoon (to which she scoffed - why did everything have to be so expensive?) and stuffing it in the fresh, creamy yogurt and began to eat it happily - for this was the food she craved when she felt lonely, sad or was just hungry. This was the kind of food that prevented her from ending it all right now.

As she was burying her face in the yogurt, her husband appeared, holding his wand and drawing the curtains in the dining room (next door to the kitchen) to let the morning light come in. His pointed face turned and his signature sneer sculpted his lips. 

"Granger." He spoke in a monotone voice, clearly bored. It baffled Hermione as to why they had to call each other by their last names, but clearly, they could both hold a strong grudge against each other, even if they were married.

"Malfoy." She replied in an equally monotone voice back at him.

He strode with a confident walk into the kitchen, looking down at her yogurt, to which she hesitantly lowered from her cream-covered mouth. She licked her lips insecurly. "So," he drawled. "You think that because you are married to the most influential family in Britain, you can do whatever you want?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

When she was about to reason with him, and opened her mouth, he cut her off. "-Is that...muggle food?" he spoke in such a quiet, dangerous voice that Hermione almost didn't hear him, though she knew that it was full of hatred.

"Yes, did you have a problem with it, dear husband?" She retorted cheekily, licking the excess yogurt off of the golden spoon in a dramatic manner, and she swore she could see Draco's face turn red with hot anger and chagrin. "How dare you-?"

Hermione then finished the yogurt, set it aside on the table, and threw the carton into the bin, clicking her fingers (to which a thin-looking house-elf appeared) and order it to clean her spoon up. Once she made her conspicuous display, she turned and smirked at Malfoy. "You should try it, it is really very nice..." She then looked at Draco's very bitter expression.

She pouted and blinked her eyes innocently. "Did you want to go and complain to your drunken father about it?" That was a low blow, she knew. Lucius Malfoy had not been very stable since she got here. After the war, his former wife apparently divorced him for being sick with his Death Eater antics. After that, and his family being connected with a low-life muggle, he had gotten close to the addiction of alcohol. Though, he had been much friendlier and more accomodating that Draco, probably due to the fact that he wasn't her old school bully. He was usually sat alone in his study, drinking his poor life away.

It was sad to Hermione, that this all came down to the fact of his success and large amounts of money.

"Breakfast will be ready soon, get dressed and _do try and act like a lady,_ Granger." He spat, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room, and Hermione could sense the tension in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes as she saw him walk into the drawing room, on the opposite side of the hall. She sighed, and then decided to go upstairs to get herself dressed. She had not yet seen her and Malfoy's bedroom, since she slept on the sofa for the first night in the mansion.

She knew that there would be a person stylist around her all the time when she went in there, but she had not met her yet, therefore very nervous. She went up the stairs, one of the puppies (there were only two between the adult dogs) — the happy, playful one which was her favourite, came yapping and jumping up the stairs after her, her pink collar bell making a ring sound with every movement she made.

She opened the door and instantly, took a sharp intake of breath when she stared in amazement at the ostentatious bedroom.

There was a big bed, with small topaz curtains attached above it. The post of the bed was lined with ornate silver colouring, and highly reminded Hermione of Victorian furniture. The bed was not low, but not too high, and the blue duvet was so long, it touched the floor. There was a small, rose-gold blanket perfectly in the middle of the bed, with two large, plush white pillows stacked together.

To the side of the bed, there was a drawer with similar etchings to the one on the bed, and when Hermione very closely, she could see a emerald-eyed serpant with a snooty-looking couple, above it written: _'The Malfoi Family, toujours pur'_. Hermione chuckled to herself, knowing that the 'forever pure' family was now connected to a muggleborn. Looking around, Hermione could also see a dresser with a pink chair, and a massive mirror. She assumed this was where the stylist would style her.

She then saw two rooms coming off of the main bedroom, a small but useful little study with a bookshelf with closer inspection, seemed to be many books on potions, healing spells and the dark arts. _Why would Draco want to learn healing spells?_ Hermione wondered curiously. The other room, was magnificently modern bathroom, with a small toilet, black tiles for the walls, a large mirror above the sink (which automatically gave out water when Hermione put her hands under — she thought it revolutionary) and a small green plant on the counter.

There was also a large bath, with similar looking taps to what the prefects bathroom had, though not quite as many and not anywhere as large. Beside it, a clean, transparent shower, that looked rather simple to be in a Malfoy house, but she did not dally on it any further.

When she returned to the bedroom, she almost had a heart attack when she saw a pretty, square-faced woman stand in front of her. Regaining herself, she could only help but stare at the woman. She had sunkissed golden skin, plump lips, arched eyebrows (which seemed to plucked perfectly), bright hazel eyes, long, curling eyelashes and chocolate brown wavy hair in a plait, which seemed to go all the way down to her back. She had a scarlet red dress that clung to her curves. The woman chuckled, and her voice was light and high.

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously when she came out of her daze. _Was this Draco's mistress or something?_

When the the sudden jealousy faded from her vision, the woman seemed to be carrying a makeup brush. She sighed with relief. _This_ was the stylist she was supposed to get ready with before she went to breakfast.

The woman smiled sweetly, her rosy lips shining in the sunlight. "My name is Allegra, and I'm going to be your stylist," her voice sounded high and kind. She extended her hand to direct at the chair beside the dresser. "If you would please take a seat, I am going to get you ready for breakfast."

Hermione sat down, and looked at her complexion. She had to admit, she didn't exactly look like a beautiful princess — she was never in the mornings. She sighed and pouted, looking at all the hair, makeup and skincare products were settled neatly on the desk.

"Do I really need to be so overly dressed for breakfast?" She sat back as Allegra brushed her fingers through her hair, instantly feeling a sharp jab as Allegra got her hand stuck in her matted hair. She swore she could her Allegra giggle softly.

"The Malfoy's do like putting an impression on people, even if it isn't even all that public, they like to be proper," Allegra explained, beginning to put Hermione's hair in bunches, brushing the ends of her hair. "They've always been like that."

Hermione scoffed, and Allegra chuckled as she worked her way through Hermione's hair. "I am guessing you're not very used to this fancy life?" Hermione frowned.

"No, this whole thing was arranged by Ministry, and we both never gave our consent for any of this." She huffed, looking in slight awe as Allegra got a bottle of hairspray and put it all over her hair. Allegra's eyebrows arched into a sad expression. "Oh, I know, this scandal with the new Ministry law...I'm so sorry, no one deserves to be forced into a marriage."

Hemrione nodded in thanks, watching over a small amount of time as her hair began to become shiny and wavy, her skin looking glowing, her makeup natural but still making her eyes stand out. Allegra clearly knew what she was doing.

When she picked out clothes, which was thin grey nightdress and a fluffy white nightgown with gold slippers. Allegra smiled encouragingly at Hermione. "Knock him dead, Mrs. Malfoy."

 

* * *

 

Smirking at that, Hermione made her way downstairs. Going into the kitchen, then to the dining room, she could see that Lucius and Draco were already there. They both looked up as they saw Hermione in her fluffy dressing gown (which she was very happy to wear, it was incredibly comfortable) and her natural makeup. Lucius' ice blue eyes glinted with a slight surprise and raised his eyebrows as he looked at his sons bride up and down.

Draco sneered at her, Hermione gulped, as he knew how bad she looked in the morning before breakfast. He however, didn't seem to not enjoy the view, and his eyes were flicking up and down her like a new wand before cutting his bacon up.

Feeling uncomfortable that the two men were looking at her like meat, she smiled faintly at them and sat herself down at the long, mahogany table that she recognised from the raid of the Malfoy manor when she, Harry and Ron where still hunting for horcruxes and Voldemort was still alive.

Feeling a sharp pang of sadness of her old memories, she decided to look at the plate before her and her mouth watered instantly at the fresh waft of delicious food. It seemed to be a salad with a large, perfectly fried egg on top of it, seasoned with vegetables and fruits that Hermione did not recognise.

Beside it, was a buttered croissant with a knife and pot of jam next to it, presumably if she wanted it. Then, a thin, elegant glass of a red cocktail beside it, with a lemon clinging to the side of glass, sugar coatings on the tip of the drink, making a small ring around it.

She glanced down at a trembling house-elf beside her that seemed to look like a girl to Hermione. "What is your name?" Hermione asked softly, not knowing if what she said would make the small elf burst into tears, because it definitely seemed like it.

"M-mopsy, mistress..." The house-elf stammered nervously, her clammy hands pulling at each other, and her foot twitching. Hermione blinked at her food, and then back at Mopsy. "Could you tell me what the food is?"

Mopsy nodded, wiping her hand over her eyelids. "I-it is salad with fried egg, hazelnuts, chanterelles, green garlic and blackb-berries," she whispered, and Hermione raised her eyebrows. Only the Malfoy's could make a breakfast so eccentric. "O-only the best for you mistress..."

Hermione smiled her thanks to Mopsy, who then slumped back into her nervous looking position, waiting for something to do. Hermione looked up to see that opposite her, Draco was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

Hermione shot him a scathing look that spoke 'I won't free any of your house-elves!'. Lucius coughed to himself and Hermione focused back on her food.

Time passed as they ate the delicious food in awkward silence. Lucius was the one to break it. “So, I do trust that you have found the manor accommodating thus far?” Draco stabbed his fork into his bacon loudly.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I saw the room that I will be staying in, it looks magnificent!” Lucius smiled smugly at that and Draco let out an undignified snort. “What, compared to your mudblood home?” Hermione at once snapped out of her daze and shot an angry glare at him.

”Don’t look at me like that! You _know_ that this house is better than that shitty apartment of yours!” Draco snarled. “That doesn’t mean we have to argue in front of such a delicious breakfast!” Hermione snapped. Lucius furrowed his brow at Draco.

“You will _not_ use such language at the table!” He growled, though his voice was weaker and less intimidating since he’d been drinking, and it didn’t seem to put an effect of Draco. Draco glared indignantly at his father before finally shutting up. She ate her breakfast happily after that.

Getting off of the table and walking back to the bedroom to get changed, Hermione decided that she would like to see this so-called ‘magnificent library’ that the Malfoy’s had. She knew where it was, because it was one of the biggest rooms. 

Walking into it, she gasped sharply. Massive, old but clean bookshelves where stacked everywhere reaching the height of the ceiling. It was just as good as the Hogwarts library to her. On each row of shelves, there were every book that you could think of.

Running happily inside, she decided that she wanted to learn a little more about the Malfoy family. Seeing that there was a large ladder, she searched for the history section. Taking a long time at looking at the spine of the books for a title along the lines of ‘Malfoy’. Nervously climbing on the ladder, trying not to fall off of it, and finally found a book that said ‘History of the Malfoy family’.

It was dusty and looked like it hadn’t been read in a long time. Blowing the dust off of it, and quickly regretting it as the dust fell into an ugly pile on the once clean floor, she opened the book and immediately found herself on a random page where a young Lucius was, with what looked to be a noble white stallion next to him. He had a young oval face with a strong jaw and arched eyebrows, and cleaner, less matted hair than he does now. He looked freakishly similar to Draco, and Hermione couldn't help but feel her stomach go empty inside, knowing how broken he looks now compared to when he was happy.

Flipping the page quickly, she then found some information on the Malfoy's in the past, and it looked like they predated all the way back to the Dark Ages. The book read: _'it was said that the first Malfoy's came in from France after Britain was taken by Wiliam the Conquer, and was accepted into the court and high class. They had enjoyed a relatively leisurely and happy life,'_

_'However, when they had shown the muggles their talent of magic, they were guilty of witchcraft. They were tortured, beaten and murdered for having magical abilities. The Malfoy's never forgave muggles for that, and has held that grudge for years, even in present day, they are seemed to be bitter about them.'_

Hermione's eyebrows raised in curiosity. So that's why the Malfoy's hated Muggleborns and muggles in general. She wondered if all extreme pureblood families were treated the same way as that, and decided to hate muggles from then on.

Now interested, Hermione sat on a small, plush looking chair and read her way through the morning and afternoon, learning all about the Malfoy's history.

 

* * *

 

 "Mistress? Mistress!"

An echoed voice rang through Hermione's head, and it started to hurt. Opening her eyes slowly, she could only see blurs, and then that she had fallen asleep for, (she looked at the clock) 7 hours, and it was now 8:47pm. She could see a book on her lamp in front of her, still open.

Mopsy was in front of her, shaking her around like a baby's toy. Hermione hissed at this, having just woken up abruptly. "Alright! Alright, I'm up!" She got up, glaring at the house-elf. Mopsy shook all over, tears welling in her big, beady eyes. "Mopsy is most sorry, mistress! Mopsy won't wake mistress up like that again!"

Hermione's gaze softened as she tried to comfort the house-elf by patting her on the back lightly. "Try not to wake me, _anytime,_ Mopsy, please," she sighed and then giggled under her breath. "I'm not exactly very happy when I wake up, especially like that, and I don't want to see you upset." Mopsy nodded frantically. "Mopsy understands! Mopsy will never wake mistress up again!"

Hermione nodded. "Good," she set the book on the small side table next to her, and looked back at Mopsy, who looked a little less shaken. "Now, please explain to me why you _did_ wake me up." Mopsy gulped.

"Master Draco wanted you to go to his chambers. Master Draco says it was getting late, and was wondering where mistress was..." She trailed off at Hermione's red blotched expression.

_Draco wants me to sleep with him? On the second night we've been together, if you could even call it that._

She sighed. She nodded her thanks to Mopsy and sent her away. Running up the stairs, she could see Draco concentrating hard in his study, looking at some sort of mechanism. Tiptoeing into the bathroom, Hermione got her lingerie nightdress and turned the tap on for the bath, and instantly, water came splurting out, and as she turned on more taps, some sort of pink foamy soap filled the bath water.

Getting in, she could feel it warm her feet instantly, and as she covered herself in the pink soap, she instantly felt softer and sleepier. After she washed off and dried, she dressed and began to brush her teeth when Crookshanks came meowing in with one of the puppies (the female puppy with the pink collar) and brushed up against her, warmly purring. After brushing her teeth, she picked Crookshanks up and cuddled him like a baby.

She got out of the bathroom, and saw Draco in bed with glasses and reading a newspaper that seemed to be about the new law. Hermione very hesitantly got under the duvet, and Crookshanks instantly jumped up and curled himself into a ball on Hermione's legs. Hermione happily stroked his soft forehead.

Draco scoffed beside her. "Does the cat follow you absolutely _everywhere_?" Hermione chuckled and nodded. "He has been since third year, Draco," he shot her an annoyed look. "Don't look at me like that! Your puppy seemed to sneak its way in, as well!" 

And she was right, the grey Irish wolfhound puppy was sleeping soundly on a newspaper on the other side of the room. Draco narrowed her eyes and removed his glasses, putting his newspaper in the drawer next to his side of the bed.

"My _father's_ puppy, Granger." He corrected her. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to stroke Crookshanks, who was twitching his whiskers happily. Draco snorted and got out of bed, going into the wardrobe and taking out at least three pillows and putting them under the duvet, making a line between Hermione and him.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What's that for?" Draco got back into bed and pulled the duvet to his side, to which Hermione pulled it back to her side stubbornly, and they both quietly growled at each other, letting go of the cover altogether.

"So I don't accidentally touch your disgusting mudblood skin, of course." He looked at her with confusion as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Hermione shot him a deadpan look. "Oh, yes, of course." She replied sarcastically, getting in a position where she could sleep comfortably and Crookshanks would fall off.

Draco smirked as he leaned over and turned over to turn off the light, the room instantly turning pitch black. Hermione could hear a faint rustle of the sheets, feeling Draco tug at the duvet _again._ It was almost childish. "Sweet nightmares, Granger."

Hermione sighed deeply and looked up at the ceiling that was illuminated through the window, making a nightish glow and she could see the faint shimmer of stars.

She thought of Ron, and how perfect they could've been.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco leaves Hermione thinking by herself, many curious people are wondering why Hermione and Draco did not make love on their first night together, and Hermione likes the Malfoy’s wine collection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter chapter, I must say, but I promise that the next chapters will have more content in them!
> 
> This was just a little chapter where Hermione can finally learn some secrets and out Draco in his place.
> 
> Enjoy,, :)

The sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, and the small bright glow illuminated the room, and it certainly woke up Hermione. She groaned as her eyes slowly opened, and she could feel that her body was annoyingly dirty, and that she generally felt how she felt every morning. It made her slightly angry that, even in the Malfoy’s bed, she felt like literal trash.

She stretched her arms, which reached the headboard of the poster bed, and her legs were dangling off of the edge of the bed as she lazily sat up, rubbing her eyes as she did so. Crookshanks was sleeping soundly in what would be Draco’s spot where he was sleeping. The puppy, was sitting on the newspaper, yapping with excitement as it saw Hermione wake up.

It happily bounded its way in Hermione’s direction, jumped onto the bed with intense effort, and got onto Hermione’s lap and licked her face happily, to which she chuckled softly. Beside her, Crookshanks was woken up and looking at the small puppy with a very grumpy expression.

Hermione sighed sadly as she looked at the side opposite her. It was covered nearly, as if no one had been sleeping there at all. She figured that Draco was somewhere else in the Manor, or the Wizarding World doing as he damn well pleased, the  _brat_.

She groaned as she hesitantly got up, Crookshanks and the puppy following her out of the bed, she quickly brushed the front of her to the side, so that a small bit of her hair was covering her eye. The hairstyle was taught by Allegra yesterday, and it apparently 'suited her face shape'.

Getting some suitable clothes out of the wardrobe, she decided on a pastel pink crop top and blue denim jeans with her signature gold high heels. A belt, lined in silver, was clutched tightly around her waist to keep the jeans up, and she then sprayed her perfume over her which was strangely labelled 'Gucci Rush', which Hermione had never heard of, but the scent was amazing and just her style.

Hermione instantly felt better when she walked out of the room, hearing her heels click sharply on the polished wooden floor. She _could_ get used to this... She felt like she owned the house then, like she carried authority.

Coming out of her chambers, she could spot Lucius in his study, with the door open on the other side of the hallway. Walking quickly up to him, she asked quickly: "Do you know where Draco is?" To that, the older man looked up at her with a startled surprise. He shook his head furtively. Hermione spotted just how messy his work desk was. Though clearly trying to be tended to, Hermione could see many empty alcohol bottles inside the bin next to the desk; also many crumpled tissues in a pile along the desk with his work papers.

The only thing clearly cared for, for it wasn't dirty or ruined, was a small cracked photograph of a young, happy-looking blonde woman being carried by an equally happy man that Hermione recognised to be a younger Lucius. Then, the beautiful woman  _had_ to be Narcissa. Hermione felt a fleeting sympathy for the elder Malfoy. He clearly was not over her.

"No, I do not Miss Granger," his voice was still as hoarse as it was yesterday. Hermione touched the desk gently with her fingers, and Lucius widened his eyes. "I do hope he hasn't abandoned you." His voice trembled slightly, and Hermione chuckled lightly at the irony of the situation. "Oh, he has." Lucius rolled his eyes, and set his quill down on the desk neatly next to the stacked papers. Hermione got a slight impression that he liked things to be in order - he had that look about him.

"He must be in the garden then, avoiding what he must confront," Lucius cleared his throat, adjusting his neck collar, as if it was too tight for his neck to handle. Hermione noticed, that as he did so, he was looking at the photograph. His eyes clouded with sadness. "You can take your leave now, Miss Granger." His voice trembled more. Hermione raised her eyebrow as she nodded, clearly noticing he needed some privacy.

_"Please."_

His voice was barely audible, and as Hermione looked closely, she could see Lucius' tears forming at the edge of his eyes, his platinum hair covering most of his face. Hermione nodded and took her leave immediately.

She trotted quickly down the stairs, going to the hallway to descend down the patio to the gardens, which were at the back of the house. Hermione had never been to this area of the house. She held back a gasp when she opened the glass windows to see the extraordinary view that was the gardens. She could see perfectly symmetrical boulevard across the middle of the gardens, with hedgerows that seemed to look like mazes. Further on, Hermione could see an amazing lake, that glimmering in the frosty winter sun.

It was still February, and there was still time to reconcile with Draco, or put him in his place (which sounded better to Hermione). Walking onto the gardens, which the grass looked recently trimmed and overall looked after. There were flower beds on the sides of the hedges, roses and daffodils hanging sweetly from the leaves. Hermione approached a rose, and looking around to check no one was there, picked a rose and neatly plucked off the thorns and threaded it through her hair.

"Destroying the gardens as you please, Granger?" A cold voice muttered behind her.

There it was. That voice that she loathed so much - the voice that made her very skin crawl.

Hermione turned around so quickly that she could her hair slice through the air. She clutched the rose in her hair tightly, so he could not lunge to take it. Draco looked merely casual, with a plain white shirt (with one button opened, Hermione could notice) and skinny jeans. Hermione's lips curled into a frown. "Where were you? You left me alone in bed this morning!"

Draco sneered,  _of course he did._

"I had things to attend to Granger," he sighed, looking straight into Hermione's eyes, and she swore she could see a glimmer of malice glint near his pupil. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly the most important thing on my mind right now."

Ignoring the insult, and still curious about his disappearance in the morning. "Yes, I am aware, but what exactly were you doing out here at 10 o'clock in the morning? In case  _you_ haven't noticed, it's still February and pretty cold."

Draco narrowed his eyes, that malice still glinting in his snowy eyes. "Why don't we go for a walk, Granger?" Hermione nodded quickly, walking up beside Draco, going through one of the hedge mazes. "So - if you truly want to know where I was, I was helping the horses get tacked up for the morning," he explained, without any trace of resentment, that it surprised Hermione.

"You have horses?" Draco looked at her, his eyes going back to the anger that he had once before. Hermione sighed, he was never going to change, was he?

"Of course we do, mudblood," he sneered, and Hermione forced herself not to flinch at the insult. Draco did not miss her subtle reaction, and looked down at her wrist, where  _mudblood_ was still carved freshly into her flesh from when Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her way back before the law, and when the war was still going on. "The most influential and richest family in the Wizarding World  _would obviously have horses._ "

Hermione ignored his sarcastic and bratty nature, trying to get onto a nicer level with him, she replied calmly. "What breed are they?" Draco raised an eyebrow at her softer tone. "Akhal Teke, some say the most rarest horse in the world, and certainly the most beautiful..." Hermione rolled her eyes at his smugness. "Can I see them?"

He looked her dead in the eye and shrugged. "Perhaps, come with me if you wish to see them." He turned on his heel and walked over the garden, going near the lake, to which Hermione could see a small, wooden stable in the distance. Hermione decided to bring up the topic of at least reconciling and putting their past between them. But, Draco clearly beat her to it.

"You know, Granger, people are already wondering why we didn't do anything last night." He said so bluntly, Hermione snapped out of her dreamy daze and looked at him with eyes as round as saucers. " _They were listening?"_ She hissed.

"Oh  _yes,_ father probably told some house-elves to listen outside," Hermione gulped. They were expecting her to conceive even before the marriage? She felt like she was going to be sick any moment. "Too bad all they could hear was arguments."

Draco suddenly rounded on her, his expression darkened and serious. "Granger, I don't even know if you know this, considering you _are_ a muggleborn," Hermione decided to ignore that. "But, the entire public press is waiting in on the details of our... _engagement_..." Hermione gulped. So the Daily Prophet knew almost everything thanks to the house-elves?

"If cannot produce an heir with you, despite how much I hate you, my reputation will be ruined and my family line broken." Hermione looked intently at his sad expression. Still, she had to talk to him about the hatred for each other. "Malfoy, don't you think, that if the press are following our every move, we could act like we actually love each other?"

Draco looked at her as if he smelled something disgusting. " _What-?_ Why would I  _ever_ pretend I would love a mudblood like you?" He hissed, suddenly pressing up against her, his hands (which were strangely strong) gripping at her arms tightly. Hermione tried to stop her heart beating very fast, and even her breathing. She took a deep breath and said in the most serious expression she could:

"Do you want your family to be the centre of gossip of a failed marriage? No? That's what I thought."

Draco looked at her, seething with anger, his face as red as a tomato. "I was supposed to marry Astoria before this stupid law - if it wasn't for that Dark Lord bastard, none of this would've happened—"

Hermione made a sudden movement, her face contorted with an furious expression. 

"—No! Other people have been hurt in this law too, including me!" Hermione snapped, Draco's expression suddenly looking surprised. "I had to watch my former boyfriend lose his girlfriend brutally in a battle, and then watch him marry some other girl when I still love him!" Draco opened his mouth to say something, and reached his hand out, but Hermione slapped it away.

"This was never just about you, and I'm sick of you flapping your wings around like an injured hippogriff, feeling oh so sorry for yourself! You're not the only person suffering! Your pain is not the hardest to bear! I suppose I expected more from you because you are a Malfoy; I suppose I forget just how young you and I are!" Hermione felt her cheeks burn up rapidly with anger and embarrassment that she just let out all of her feelings to Malfoy.

As she lectured him, Draco could feel his rage spiralling alongside hers. "The Ministry made this happen. _I_ didn't try to take back a man who didn't love me anymore. _I_ didn't team up with Potter to anger the dark lord. _I_ didn't bring my family name to shreds!"

Hermione drew in a long breath, trying and struggling to compose herself, her hair was bristling with anger. "Try to remember," she spoke quietly. "That when we have children, I _won't_ have them raised in a hateful environment like this."

Draco's bitter expression did not falter, but his eyes burned with a small understanding. "Touché." Hermione stomped on without him, going to the stables by herself. "Granger, wait—"

But Hermione did not listen, and continued to walk with her back turned to him until she reached the stables, and she leaned against the locked door. She took a peak inside and smiled at the creatures that were now looking at her.

There were two small horses in the same large compartment, their beds clearly was just cleaned. The horses _were_ stunning, and their golden pelts were shining in the morning light. They were petite, and their heads narrow, with a thin but fair mane plaited to the side. For some reason, it reminded Hermione of the Malfoy's; what, with their narrow faces and blonde hair.

Draco eventually caught up to her, now looking at her with a cautious expression, worried that she would burst again. Hermione suspected he thought she would punch him again like she did in 3rd year. She chuckled to herself. "They are stunning," she breathed. "Could I ride them?"

Draco looked at her with a ludicrous expression of disbelief, and then nodded. "Sure, I just didn't know you knew how to ride a horse, Granger." He spoke as he opened the stable doors, and the horses as Draco said earlier were tacked up with their saddles and reins. 

"Oh yes, when I was little I went through a horse phase," One of the horses, the smaller one turned to look at Hermione and Hermione cautiously, and slowly began to stroke its neck gently. The horse seemed to enjoy it, and it's eye blinked slowly in content. "So my parents paid for me to have lessons at a stable." The horses were led out by Draco, their hooves clacking on the pavement.

Draco lined one of the horses up with Hermione. He handed her some black leather boots. "You'll be needing these,' he explained, and Hermione removed her heels to put them on. "Do you need help getting on the horse?" Hermione chuckled at his sudden politeness as she got on the horse herself, shuffling around the saddle a little, to get comfortable.

"Funny, how nice you're acting now." She pointed out, as she urged the horse to move. She swore she could hear an angry huff from Draco as he tried to keep up with her. She trotted her horse along the gardens. Draco met up with her. "I don't want to exactly get punched in the face again, Granger..." Hermione raised her eyebrow and smirked. 

Draco saw this and shook his head in disbelief. "Can't believe I'm marrying you," he then pointed his finger at a large, spacious field on the other side of the lake. "We will go there, the grass there is soft for the horses and there is enough space to— Granger! _Wait!—"_

But Hermione was already galloping across the lake shore ahead of him. The horse was splashing the water at her legs, and the wind was going through her hair, and she felt _so alive._  She could see the lake horizon showing the morning sun coming up, the orange and pink colours of dawn beginning to seep through the sky and clouds. 

She figured, if she was going to live here for the rest of her life, she might as well enjoy it.

As she reached the field, she felt suddenly breathless, and her face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. Her horse gracefully galloped through the sunflower field, the flowers were not yet blossoming, but there was the odd bud that had a faint yellow petal coming out.

She couldn't wait until spring to see just how stunning it would look like, a field of yellow sunflowers while riding on a rare golden horse. Draco caught up to her again, panting.

"Don't run away suddenly like that!" He breathed, and Hermione pulled a mischievous expression at him. She laughed at his annoyed expression. He pulled his horse to a slow walk, and so did she. His face turned into one of somber, and she could see him looking around the field like he was reliving a memory.

He then looked at, her eyes much more lowered than usual. "When I was younger, my father used to take me here," he murmured, and Hermione suddenly felt empty. "I was taught how to ride a horse by him, you know, before the war and everything happened."

Hermione looked down, a little ashamed of herself for lashing out at him earlier, though she knew deep down that he was going to be an enigma and she will definitely find bumps along the way of this journey. 

"I'm sorry—" but he waved her off with an amused snort. "Don't be. Nothing will ever be the same since this family changed," he continued. "But, he still sometimes comes out on rides with me like this—Granger, I want the best for my father. He isn't in a good state right now, and if you could in the very least treat him with kindness, it would mean a lot to me."

She was about to tell him about the encounter she had with him this morning, but decided to leave it with just a nod and subtle smile. "Still can't believe you're actually being polite now."

"Shut up, Granger."

 

* * *

 

The had stayed in that field with the horses almost all day, talking about how to solve their problems, and Hermione was drawing the landscapes on a sketchbook, to which Draco looked over at it and called it 'rather commendable'.

When the sun was setting, Draco had already gone inside to sort out letters and work. Hermione got up from the soft grass under a tree, picking a large sunflower that had budded early in the field and got onto her horse and galloped back to the stables, tucking the horse neatly in the stables, looking just as she saw it in the morning.

As she walked back to the manor, she couldn't help but wonder how much Draco changed today. Was he scared of her? No—nonsense, he couldn't be scared of _her._ He had faced much worse than talking to her. Intimidated, perhaps, but never _scared._

She walked into the main hall, to find her favourite (and mostly used) sofa and small coffee table in front of her. Quickly going into the kitchen to brew some tea, she went back into the hall and sat on the sofa, with her legs in the air, cushioning her head on the arm rest.

Time past, and as she thought of her memories with the Weasley family and her and Ron as children, she could hear a faint shouting from upstairs, which Hermione recognised to be Lucius' study.

She listened closely, now awake, hoping to catch something of use.

 _"—what do you mean they haven't done anything yet?"_ The voice hissed softly.

 _"I told you, Edison, you can't rush their marriage just yet; they practically hate each other,"_ spoke the calm yet commanding voice of Lucius Malfoy.

_"You'd better get them to do something before the public hears about it!"_

_"I cannot rush anything, I told you! It's up to them, it is not in my place to meddle in my son's arrangements with Mrs. Granger!"_ His voice spoke a little louder, now, getting annoyed.

_"We've got three weeks to make this work—and if they still hate each other by the time they get married, you'll be regretting it."_

_"I understand, Edison."_ His voice wavered slightly, but his tone still serious. 

Hermione could fear her breath shaking as she tried to compose herself. So that was why Draco was being nice to her. Only because his father is trying to make us get along. She could feel her stomach drop like a stone pebble.

Quietly getting up from her place, she decided that alcohol could only be the best descion in this situation, plus, the Malfoy's had some of the best wines in the world. Grabbing a bottle (of which she did not know the name of), she popped the cap off, and poured it down her throat quickly.

She did not know how it exactly happened, but soon she was drowsily drinking on the sofa, feeling her now heavily lidded eyes close, determined not to fall asleep yet. But her instincts gave way, and soon she was snoring soundly on the sofa, cuddling an empty bottle.

Little did she know, that someone found her and carried her back to bed, where she should belong at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and staying with the story at the moment, I promise the plot will become more consistent as the chapters go on.
> 
> As always, your kudos, hits and comments mean the world to me <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds out many secrets about things she shouldn't know, and she and Draco attempt to reconcile yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry for the long update wait! I was very busy at school and life has been pretty hectic lately, but I'm now on holiday, so updates will be much quicker from now on until I start school again.
> 
> This chapter is a little longer than usual, to make up for the wait. Enjoy!
> 
> <3

Her head stung, and it hurt like actual hell.

As Hermione got up hesitantly, for her body seemed to sting or inflict some sort of pain around her temple when she made a sharp movement, she looked around. 

She was back in her bed. It confused her — was all that arguing, horse-riding and drinking a dream? Her head began to ring even more.  _Think. What was the last thing you remember happening last night?_

She remembered—remembered hearing someone talking to Lucius in his study last night, she must've gotten drunk (otherwise her head wouldn't be hurting like this) and...why was she in her bed? She vaguely remembered passing out on the sofa.

That means someone must've carried her back. Looking around her, the curtains were still drawn shut and the room was still very dark into the night. She opened the drawer and grabbed her wand. _"Lumos,"_ she whispered, a bright aura of light emitting from her wand immediately.

She heard someone groan and stir next to her. The sheets rustled for a moment, before she could see the scrunched up and confused face of Draco glaring at her over his shoulder.

"Could you not? I'm trying to sleep!" His voice whispered in what Hermione assumed was his usual passive-aggressive tone. Hermione rolled her eyes. His voice was already giving her a headache, and he wasn't helping the pain in her temple.

"Sure, if you could help me find a potion for hangovers." She countered. Draco squinted his eyes, his hand shielding him from the light. "Hangovers? It's 2 am Hermione, go back to sleep!" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Then the light isn't going out."

Draco shot daggers at her with his look and got out of bed. "Maybe you shouldn't have gotten drunk last night, Granger," he sauntered tiredly over to his study, and Hermione heard a squeaky opening sound of a wardrobe or cupboard. "Me and father had to carry you all the way back here when we found that you passed out." 

Hermione's breath hitched. So that was why she was back here all of a sudden!

Draco came back with a small flask in his hand, and Hermione lowered her wand, placing it on the velvet duvet, the light making a strange, shimmering glow under it. "Drink quickly," he instructed and Hermione forced her eyes to not roll to the back of her head.

"Yes, I _do_ know how to take a hangover potion, Malfoy." She retorted at him, before gulping the potion down her throat. It tasted bitter and disgusting, and whenever she tried to swallow it, it seemed that her stomach just wouldn't accept it.

Eventually, she very forcefully swallowed the potion in a thick gulp and cringed. She could still feel the taste of the bitterness on her tongue, desperate to get it off, she rushed into the bathroom and took a sip of water from the tap in the sink. She could hear Malfoy snort from the other room.

"What? Did you think it would taste of butterbeer or something?"

Hermione was wiping her mouth with a towel when she snapped her gaze back to the laughing blonde. She hated that sneering smile, and all she wanted to do was punch it off of him. However angry she was, she neatly tucked it away for later when they could possibly get into _another_ fight.

She could slowly feel the alcohol drain away from her body, and her head instantly stopped pulsing for a few moments before stopping altogether.

She cleared her throat and began to get back into bed. Draco looked at her indignantly. "Now that you've woken me up, I won't be able to go back to sleep," he grumpily got out of bed and trudged to his office to start work early. "You’re welcome!" Hermione called after him before feeling her head hit the pillow.

Looking up at the ceiling and happily listening to Draco's sounds of annoyance, she closed her eyes and had a _very_  good sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

 

When she woke up, she could hear the birds tweeting happily outside of the now open window, which was letting beams of sunlight inside the room. Illuminated in the light, Hermione could see bright specks of dust particles passing through the air.

Getting up, she could see that Draco wasn't in his study. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. He was probably tacking up the horses outside like he was yesterday. She wasn't going to go looking for him again. Getting dressed (which was a white tank top, a brown denim skirt and a blue denim jacket.

She put on the same heels she wore yesterday, which were cleaned by the house-elves, she walked out of the room. Looking around the corridor which had Lucius' study in, she could also see that he wasn't working either. Then where were they?

Keeping that thought in her brain, she quietly tip-toed into his study, her hand resting on the doorframe, leaning around the door to double check that he wasn't actually in there. She then sneaked into the room, looking around his desk, which looked the same as it did yesterday, with the portrait untouched and everything else messy.

She knew this was wrong. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, spying on Lucius' private documents and souvenirs—but the way he was talking to that Edison person yesterday, she couldn't lie: she was definitely getting suspicious of him.

She began to skim through a large stack of papers, and the first paper was a ripped page of a Daily Prophet. Up looking at her through the page, waving to a large crowd with a smug look on his face, was a handsome man with a strong jaw and curly brown hair. He looked relatively young, and was wearing a smart black suit. He had what many girls would call a charming smile, but to Hermione, it looked strangely fake and seemed like a facade to cover up something inconceivably dark about him. Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at the heading of the page.

It read: _**EDISON HILLS - A SHORT INTERVIEW AND BIOGRAPHY ABOUT THE MAN WHO CREATED THE WORLD PHENOMENON MARRIAGE LAW.**_

This was the man who created the law! Hermione took a sharp intake of breath, as she quickly turned to around to check if anyone was near the room again. She then quickly scanned through the page, which, to its truth, contained a very short interview with him. It seemed that this  _'Edison'_ was very formal and did not exactly tell anything too controversial; and Hermione thought it was a smart tactic through politics. It was like chess. If you showed your secret strengths too early in the game, you will always lose because it becomes too predictable.

He also seemed to show little to no remorse for everything and everyone he ruined in this law, stating that it was for 'the greater good'. It angered Hermione to no end, that he didn't even care about all the families or the sexism that was rising up for firing all witches from their respective jobs. She also learned that he had good connections with almost any strong wizarding family, and it seemed that he had gangs and spies to collect information about the pre-marriages before they are consummated.

Sneakily, though deadly cautious, Hermione folded the newspaper article and tucked it into her denim jacket pocket, keeping it for later, for her to inspect and study later to find out who and what this man really was - and just how important he was.

Just as she was about to leave, she caught something particularly interesting in the corner of her eye. She could see a small, black leather diary sitting on one of the shelves from the bookshelf, which was hanging around with all sorts of historical books and magical scrolls in there, but it was so strange to see it so out of place compared to the rest of the books.

Feeling curious as she picked it up, she instantly saw something which horrified her. The page was old, dusty and had several tea stains on them, making the page appear and yellowy orange. The writing was scribbled in what looked like to be ink, and Hermione recognised the fancy, pointy writing as a fountain pen. 

_August 18th 1972,_

_The dark mark was gifted upon me today. I'm not sure how my mother or father would feel about this, but they are gone from my life now, so it's not like matters. It hurt, and it hurt, even more, to think about Narcissa. I've really grown to care for the young woman or my future bride. I hope that she doesn't find out and that we can put this all behind us. Talking about Death Eaters, Severus was acting so strange today at school. I visited him for the day (even though I have graduated), and whenever Lily and those stupid Marauders appeared sometime in the hallway, he would flinch away._

_I do hope he is alright. I gave him an expensive stirring rod to practice with over the summer, which he seemed to enjoy, so that might've lifted his spirits._

_Anyway, I found out that Severus, a fourteen-year-old boy has already created his own spell! It's in progress, obviously, and he named it 'Sectumsempera'. He said it is supposed to cut through people, and we both decided that it would be great if the Death Eaters could use this spell, useful for killing quickly. He also taught me how to create my own spells. Currently, we are working on three spells for dueling._

_p.s: only use these on mudbloods and blood-traitors, for it's what they deserve!_

Under that text, the page ended with a crudely drawn stick figure that looked like Lucius and Snape firing spells at unaware muggles (for they were labeled mudbloods).

Hermione felt her chest slowly feeling more and more empty. She wanted to find out these spells, and just how dangerous were they? She understood that Lucius and Severus were just young when they made these spells, but they were still foolish and immature.

On the next page was an information sheet on a spell, the title in bold, scruffy writing that read:  ** _STRICTA PECTUS._**

A wand movement was drawn to the side of the page, and it looked like a short but long diagonal slash. Under it, in brackets, was:  _'make sure to make the movement strong, like you're slicing through someone'._ Hermione grimaced at this, and went pale as she read the writing below. It seemed that this spell was a jinx that restricted the victim's breathing for a short amount of time. Apparently, it was supposed to feel like something pressing down on your chest - and it seemed to be positively horrible, for underneath Lucius wrote: ' _Severus tried this on me, and it felt like an invisible weight being pulled down on me, like I was drowning!'._

Hermione physically recoiled at the description of it. He also added that it was a 'sort of' hard jinx to cast successfully. It read that sometimes the jinx could go on for too long if wrongly cast, and then it would be too dangerous, or not, depending on the circumstance you were using it in. He wrote that it wasn't all that useful in duels or attacks, but if needed for a distraction or a prank - it could definitely work.

Feeling curious, and eager to figure out if these spells really work, Hermione opened one of the smaller drawers in Lucius' desk and began looking for some parchment to write on. Finding a small stack of spare paper, which Hermione could only assume was for letters, she took it out and began copying notes out from the diary, or whatever you wanted to call it. Scribbling it down quickly, she then turned the page to look for the second spell, if there was one. And there was one. 

This one read:  ** _FULMINIMENS._**

The wand movement was a small, upside down lightning bolt, perhaps to be slightly more different to 'Avada Kedavra'. It was highlighted in a light blue, and it was labeled ' _the lightning bolt charm'._ It was pretty simple to understand. When cast, a small shot of electricity came through the wand of the caster. He added that when using ' _Fulminimens Maxima'_ \- a fully charged, bigger bolt of lightning will be cast, and it is apparently very effective in dueling. Lucius did not add any notes on trying it with Severus, but it seemed he had on other people, for he wrote:

_Note - make sure the incantation is nice and clear, lest you'll be given a small electric shock or electrocuted altogether._

Hermione stifled a giggle at that, quickly jotting down the notes on the spell. She turned over the page again and gasped horribly. This  _had_ to be the most dangerous one. The page was splattered with small drops of dried scarlet red blood and more puddles of coffee and tea stains. It read:

_**AUFERAT MAGICAE.** _

 It explained that it was a highly dangerous curse that took away a witch or wizards magic away altogether for a few moments, while you take their power. Lucius put down that he had not tried it, and thought it was barbaric, but created it so that the Dark Lord could perhaps use it. The wand movement was a curled sort of movement, and kind of looked like a dried up worm that you would see on a sunny day, lying on a path. He added that, like the cruciatus curse, you have to  _feel._ Reluctantly, Hermione wrote down the information onto the paper.

Picking it up quickly, tucking it into the same place she put the news article, she turned on her heel and headed out of the room sneakily, still checking if no one was around to see her come out. 

Going down the stairs slowly, she could spot the blonde head of Draco just come inside from the garden. Before she could say anything, Draco spotted her first, his pointed face contorting with confusion. "What were you doing in there, Granger?" Hermione gulped rather loudly. "Er, checking if your father was here," she explained quickly, perhaps too quickly, because Draco raised an arched eyebrow. "Um, by the way, where is your father?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know," Hermione felt strangely awkward in this conversation and decided to bring up what was on her mind for a while now. "Do you have an area where I could use spells to practice?" Draco furrowed his brow in confusion, and his body posture took a defensive stance. "Why? Would've thought with your smart-ass, you know every spell and how to cast it," Hermione folded her eyes and put on her best angry face. "I just need it for something important, alright?"

His eyes slowly softened and he held out his arm to a door on the other side of the hall. "Yeah, we have practice dummies in the dungeon." Hermione shivered as she followed him there, remembering her being tortured above Ron and Harry during the war by Bellatrix Lestrange. Through the door was a spiral staircase in the darkness, shaking as she realized Harry and Ron and many others were dragged down here by Death Eaters. Hermione could barely see until they actually came into the room, where the windows let natural morning light through, lighting the room.

Draco then nodded in her direction. "Alright, you have fun, then," Hermione said thank you to him and then turned to face the dummies. Out of her skirt pocket, she took out her vine wand. Twirling around, she took her time to admire it for a moment. This wand had gone through a lot with her, and she felt thankful that it wasn't broken, or lost its faith in her.

Deciding that the Fulminimens charm was the easiest, she took the notes she copied out and looked at the wand movement. Taking a deep breath, she pointed her wand at the chest of the dummy in the middle (there were three lined up) and spoke as clearly as she could:  _"Fulminimens,"_ she made the lightning bolt movement, and immediately felt a strong bolt of electricity surge through her wand. Feeling a little more confident that it was working, she repeated it again. This time, the tip of her wand released some sort of small bolt that looked like what you would see in lightning.

Gathering her composure that it was actually working, she then spoke of a similar but more powerful form of the spell.  _"Fulminimens Maxima,"_   she almost flinched when she felt her wand jitter and then release a big bolt of blue, pure lightning straight at the chest of the dummy, leaving a huge black spot where it burned the cotton. Hermione blinked in shock, and then realized that her hair was suddenly standing on end, probably due to the amount of electricity she just produced.

Lucius was right, the larger version of this spell could definitely be used for attacks in dueling. 

She took another deep breath, deciding to try another spell, seeming that one of them actually worked. She decided to try the so-called 'suffocation jinx'. Speaking clearly, she uttered the words  _stricta pectus,_ and sliced through the air quickly, in a diagonal line going from her top left to bottom right. Nothing happened, of course, because she had not pointed it at an actual living being, but a small glowing dark amber colour, that looked like a brown to her, began to sparkle around the tip of her wand. It was faint, and Hermione felt like she hadn't done it correctly.

Trying it again, and again, she got the same disappointing result - a faint colour from the tip of her wand. But when she felt angry, the colour of the spell seemed to be stronger, and larger. She wondered, that if you were truly mad or despised someone, this spell could only work. She felt the hairs on her arms rise in fear. Did Lucius and Severus actually use these spells on Order members? It didn't seem like it. She never noticed them or any of the Death Eaters use it with her or anyone else, not even at the Battle of Hogwarts.

Perhaps they decided that it would be best to not let anyone find this, especially the no-mag one. Was Hermione supposed to find this? Probably not. But then why did Lucius just leave it out in the open? She had so many questions, most of which she couldn't ask or just wouldn't get an answer.

She gulped as she looked at the last spell. Did she really want to try this out? She felt that it was horrible, that this curse should never have existed. But at the same time, she was  _so_ curious about this. Would it work? How could a spell be so powerful to take away the very culmination of a wizard's being? Taking a deep breath, and her now sweaty hands gripping on the handle of her wand, she made the swishing movement, looking at the paper at times to make sure was doing this correctly, she then said it, the horrific name:  _Auferat Magicae._

A large green aura of light came out of her wand, swirling around the air, seeming to be searching for a victim. Hermione quickly dropped her wand, the green light vanished and she sat down for a moment to take a minute to process what just happened. She felt empty, like grime was on her. Was this what using the killing curse felt like? She could see that light, filling the room like a ghost, or a dementor looking for a soul to suck out. Hermione felt hot and sweaty. However, the other two spells seemed useful to her. For this marriage law, if she was going to protect her and her children (she shuddered at the thought) she might as well learn a few new spells. 

Picking her wand up, she began to murmur the incantations again.

 

* * *

 

 

She felt hot, and was tired and sweaty. She was just in her white tank top now, her denim jacket flown across the edge of the room when the lightning bolts got too hot for her to handle. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead, and looked at the dummies she had practically destroyed with the amount of electricity that was singeing it.

Little did she know, Draco had entered the room, just watching her, with his arm lying casually on the wall of the door. "You look like you've spent long enough in here," Hermione jumped in surprise, quickly hiding the paper that had the spells on it, quickly popping the paper in her skirt pocket, whipping around to face him. She put on her best confident smirk as she put her wand away. Draco looked best her and his eyes widened in surprise. "You destroyed these dummies!" He stated in surprise, taking out his wand and muttering Hermione couldn't hear (as she was too busy getting her jacket back), and the dummies pieced themselves together again, looking completely untouched.

As Hermione walked to the door, Draco's nose wrinkled. "You need a wash! Go take a shower, and I think you need something relaxing to do," Draco's head tilted at Hermione's surprised expression. "What? Just because I hate you, Granger, doesn't mean I can't be a gentlemanly husband...so what will it be? Yoga? Massages? Swimming?" Draco clearly saw Hermione's face light up at the suggestion. "Swimming it is then, we have a pool in the extension of the house, quite beautiful I must say, the lights are bright and the windows are the walls, so you can see the night sky..."

Hermione began to block out his smug rambling about his expensive pool and headed up the stairs. She turned to Draco before heading into their room. "See you there - and no peaking on me in the shower!" She turned away, and she could hear Draco mutter "like I would, anyway..." as she went into the bathroom. She went into the modern-looking shower, turned the handle in her direction, and wonderfully tepid-lukewarm water sprayed over her, and she scrubbed herself clean, feeling her hair and body soak it up like a sponge.

The dirt was quickly being washed away, and Hermione spotted a shower gel that looked like some sort of grapefruit scent. She washed it all over herself, and then put her banana-scented shampoo and conditioner in her hair, dragging her fingers through it thoroughly.

She dried quickly, because the towels were already warming on some sort of rack. And she brushed her hair, then going to her personal wardrobe to find a swimsuit to wear. Just then, Allegra appeared, looking like she was getting ready for bed, but at the sight of Hermione she perked up instantly. "Hermione! Are you going somewhere?" Hermione shook her head. "No, Draco invited me to relax in the swimming pool with him. I just don't know what to wear-" Allegra quickly interrupted her. "I know just the thing you can wear!"

Reaching into the wardrobe, the woman pulled out a shiny rose gold bikini, that didn't seem to be too skimpy or small for her. She put close to her body, inspecting if it would fit her. "It would perfectly suit and fit your body type: slim, fit and petite..." Allegra went on. Hermione smiled gratefully."Thanks, Allegra," she turned to change in the bathroom. "It's what I'm here for!" She heard the woman call after her. She snorted to herself when she closed the door. Allegra was nice, but she reminded her of an example of being  _too_ friendly.

She put the bikini on, and she had to admit...it  _did_ suit her a lot. The wasn't too big, and clung to her small body perfectly. There were small bows of the sides of the bottoms, and it didn't tug into her like a thong like many bikini's did to her. Swirling around, she could definitely tell that she looked sexy. Feeling now confident, she sprayed her hair one more time and headed downstairs with a thin dressing-gown, in case someone like Edison came in again and saw her  _like this._

Going down the stairs, her hands clutching the banister, she felt suddenly like a princess going to find her prince and some sort of ball, like the Muggle fairy tale, Cinderella. Draco was already there, waiting for her in a similar dressing gown. He looked at her and breathed out a sigh of what seemed to be relief. "Finally! You took a long time!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and began following him through a side room (which seemed like a thin corridor, marked with marble on the walls) that led to a glass room (which seemed like a greenhouse to Hermione) and he turned to her, putting a single finger on his lips, and for some reason, Hermione could feel her eyes slowly trailing to them. "We must be quiet, father is asleep and we are just under him," he explained quietly. He closed the door carefully and Hermione gasped as she reached the room. It was large, and had dark grey tiled walls and a light grey tiled floor. There were modern lights at the end of the room, that looked like stars and it lit up the room in the darkness of the night.

However, with the lights, the blue water in the pool glistened so beautifully, that Hermione thought she was imagining it. She took a step forward and felt herself smiling rather stupidly. She turned to Draco in awe. "But that doesn't mean we can't have fun." He finished his sentence with a chuckle. She took off her dressing gown set it down on the chair. She felt Draco's eyes on her. He whistled at her with a smirk on his face, and Hermione raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. "Damn, Granger." Hermione placed her foot inside the water, in the shallow end, where she could see the floor slowly tilt deeper until it was the same depth as the deep end. 

The water was warm, she got in eagerly, and she felt a joyful shiver run through as her body went fully in. She began to cling to the sides, slowly moving further deeper. In the corner of her eye, she could see Draco getting in. He was in his dark grey swimming trunks, and his chest looked positively muscular, or lean was the proper word, his waist was thin, but his shoulders were broad, and his arms thin but still had just the right amount of muscle in them. Hermione tried to pry her eyes away from him, and tried not to look desperate, but as she looked away she could her face only heat up even further.

She could literally see Draco's smug face behind her, the bastard. Did he see her staring at him? Why did she even care all of a sudden? She swam deeper into the opposite side of the pool, hoping to get away from Draco, but he was on her tail. She couldn't help but notice how the light illuminated his pale face, the ripples of the water reflecting on his now wet, messy hair. It was so strange to see it without it being slicked back, but she appreciated the way the strands fell onto his eyelashes, so perfectly, Merlin, he was so hot-

She immediately washed those thoughts away as she could see him holding his wand. Hermione looked at him strangely. What was he doing? Draco pointed it directly at the water. "I've been meaning to show you this trick I learned in 5th year," Hermione raised an eyebrow in curiosity and watched him utter something unintelligible. The water morphed gracefully into some sort of shape, which seemed to be a dolphin, and it began jumping in and out of the water, circling around them, splashing as it went.

Hermione smiled in genuine appreciation of the spell. It was very pretty, she admitted. "What was that spell?" She asked, setting her arms on the side of the pool, her cheek resting her hand. Draco's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Slytherin's don't spill their secrets..." Hermione huffed in annoyance but smiled at this new, non-hostile side of Draco. It was nice relaxing with him, not a care in the world about the upcoming marriage, or arguing about something so small she could barely care less. Hermione then got out of the water, slightly noticing Draco look at her when doing that (watching the way the water shone on her thighs, most likely) and got her wand out of her dressing gown.

She the got back in and smirked at him, pointing her wand at nowhere in particular. "Fine, then, I'll show you a  _secret spell_ of my own." She then muttered the words  _Expecto Patronum_ and thought of the time Harry and Ron saved her from the mountain troll in 1st year, and a small, silver otter jumped out of her wand, shining brightly in the dark, running across the water, the reflection glistening in the pool. The otter turned to her and took a small sniff, and ran away, only to dissolve moments later. She turned to Draco to see his reaction, and it was one she was hoping for.

He looked somehow shocked, surprised and amazed all in the same expression. "Spectacular," he breathed, feeling around the air as if to feel if it was there anymore. She smiled bashfully at him, happy that her hours at the D.A practicing this charm finally wore off. It was the only spell that she found incredibly difficult, as well as that no-mag curse she learned just today. "Perhaps I could teach you the charm someday." Draco looked at her, his face full of joy and surprise. "Perhaps another day," he spoke gently.

A few more hours went by, her and Draco talked, and for the first time in this whole ordeal, Hermione felt that he was actually opening up to her without being aggressive at all. She was happy that this was happening, for sure, but it surprised her, this sudden change in the cold, close-off bully that she used to know.

They decided to finally get out and go to bed, since it was getting too late. They both used a drying charm on each other, and headed up to the bedroom. As Draco was getting ready to go to bed, Hermione carefully and sneakily hid the paper with her newly learned spells in the top of her wardrobe. She then headed for the bed, Draco was already asleep, and she called Crookshanks (who was sleeping in a box on the other side of the room) to sleep on her. The cat gladly did so. Feeling her head hit the pillow in pure exhaustion, she quickly fell asleep. " _Good night,"_ she whispered quietly, hoping Draco wouldn't hear. Would he be the same tomorrow? Cold and emotionless?

But as she fell into her deep slumber, she didn't notice that Draco was still wide awake, and in fact  _was_ listening to her.

"Good night, Granger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments, bookmarks, kudos and hits really motivate me to carry on writing and get me through writer's block a lot of the time, so I still and will always greatly appreciate them. 
> 
> Thank you for reading up to this point so far, and I hope you'll stick with the story :))


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The terrifying day that Hermione has been dreading has finally come, and how will she cope with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Once again, I apologise for the long update. It has been a week, like my schedule to update, but some people still insist that I update earlier.
> 
> I will remind some viewers that my life is very busy right now, and currently I'm on holiday in France and spending time with my family. I cannot write stories with the click of my fingers. I wish I could, but I can't.
> 
> I hope you understand and enjoy the chapter <33

Hermione's heart was beating heavily against her chest as she looked down at the large, tattered book she was reading. The sun had barely come up, and she had not slept at all (despite Draco's protests that she should get sleep), for she was shaking with fear and anxiety. All the thoughts of the marriage were swirling around her head as she tried to get to sleep; and when she woke up in cold sweat, she figured sleep would not quieten her venomous thoughts.

It had been around two or three weeks since she and Draco went swimming in the pool. From then on, they had been relatively nice and comfortable around each other - even though, they still called each other by their last names. Hermione guessed it was to make the coupling much less of a nightmare. Maybe it was all just an act to please his father. Maybe he still despised her and thought of her like dirt. She would never know.

She had heard a lot more history of the manor and had got to know a lot more about Draco, the dogs, the horses and almost anything she could think of. Except for Lucius. For some reason, Draco's stoic father had stayed well away from Hermione, sometimes even turning in the other direction when he came across her in the hallway. It pained Hermione to think this, but she felt alone whenever someone avoided her deliberately. It made her feel unwanted, and that was the worst thing she could possibly think of.      

However, despite all this, today could possibly be the most important day of her entire life. It was the day for the marriage to be sealed. 

Hermione could already feel her palms get clammy. How would she feel when she was walking down the aisle towards Draco to have her life sold away? Would there be pureblood there?  _Oh,_ she definitely thought there would be, turning their noses up disdainfully whenever she looked at them. She would be shamed for destroying the Malfoy family's purity.

Down in her book, she flipped over the contents page, her heart leaping as she could see a Tim Burton-esque drawing of two figures, slitting their wrists. The blood seemed to be sealed in two rings that they wore, looking like rubies. Hermione's lips felt dry all of a sudden. Was this what they expected of her? To slit her wrist in some insane ritual?

Before she could put the book away, Draco's voice almost made her jump out of her skin.

"Granger? What are you doing up so early?" His voice sounded more concerned than annoyed, and Hermione put her book (that landed on the floor) back on the shelf that it was on before she picked it up. Hermione turned to face Draco, and noticed that his hair was dishevelled, and looked just as worried and tired as she did. "Are you staying up because it's the day of the marriage today?"

Hermione nodded, and felt her face flushing with emotion.  _Don't cry, please don't cry in front of him._ But it was too late. She could feel hot, stinging tears trickle down her cheeks like acid on her skin. Draco's face immediately turned into one of pity, and he slowly stepped towards her like an adult trying to comfort a child, and gave his best comforting smile, which, to his delight cheered Hermione up a bit. 

"I'm-I'm sorry, I just-," she stammered, wiping her hand over her tears in a desperate attempt to stop them streaming out. "This- _this_ ," she gestured at Draco. "It's just all so overwhelming..." Her voice felt strained, and as she talked she could only choke up more wracked sobs. Draco put a warm hand on her shoulder.

"This is the day everyone is dreading, there are many people other than you that are reacting in the exact same way," he spoke softly in Hermione's right ear, it felt soothing, and his voice made her hiccup a few more times before she let out a sniffle, and the tears slowly stopped coming. When she pulled away from Draco's small embrace, she could see a melancholy glimmer in his sea-blue eyes, though he was smiling faintly, she could see the dead sadness in his eyes. "Come on, Granger, where's that smile? Today might end up as a nightmare, but enjoy it while you can - life's too precious to waste thinking about the downside in everything."

Hermione sniffled again, seeing that her nose was now red from her rubbing it too much. She could her face tug at a smile, her cheeks forming a dimple, her eyes squinting joyfully as she let out a strained, painful laugh. "The Hufflepuff in you is showing, Draco." Draco snorted at that and muttered a 'shut up' at her before the went upstairs together.

As she went up the spiral staircase, and she noticed that through the panelled windows, the pinkish-yellow colours of dawn were slowly dripping through the sky. It was clear that it was very early morning, and they only had until lunch before they become a married couple. They got into bed again, attempting to fall asleep yet again. It did not work, but it was better than nothing.

Beside her, Draco was on his back as well as Hermione, his eyes wide open. Under the covers, Draco's hand was entwined with hers, the small energy of comfort lulling Hermione to sleep. And that, was valued more than anything in that moment.

 

* * *

 

 

The big day had arrived begrudgingly, and Hermione was already getting ready for the big moment. There were stylists all beside her, including Allegra, that were twirling her hair around, casting beauty charms and adding extra length to her eyelashes. There was no going back, and if she did, she would be placed in Azkaban. She was trapped, with no choice to follow other than to blindly obey whatever the Ministry is planning for her. Her hair was in a brown braid, and a white, lily flower was twirled in her brown bush. Her hair, that was once like a lions mane and bushier than a birds nest, was now tidy and wavy, curled in such a way that witches would kill for.

It all felt far too overwhelming. She didn’t deserve this — all the luxury, money and being pampered was not exactly ideal for her. She was never used to the gold and silver bracelets and necklaces that she was gifted upon by Draco. Growing up, she was easily classified as a middle-class young girl. Not filthy rich, but not incredibly poor. Just right in the middle, perfectly balanced, as she thought it should be.

But when she could see the soft, thin straps of linen swirling up her arm to form the top of her dress like vines, she felt like a princess. A queen. The dress was long, and she looked at herself in the mirror in disbelief that this was her. It was the sort of thing that she would've been dreaming about at 6 years old, but now, it just seemed over the top and unnecessary.

“Do you like it? I’m sure that _I_ like it. You’re so lucky!” Allegra happily chirped behind her, looking at Hermione through the mirror over her shoulder, looking as if to be admiring her handy work. Hermione gulped and furrowed her brow. Ignoring the question, she pressed the matter which worried her the most. “When is it happening?” She wondered the most, onto the deepest most darkest depths of her mind if Draco was already there, waiting for his bride to come flaunting in the main hall, where they would exchange vows and worst of all, the locking of their lips that would seal this contract—this _slavery_.

Allegra looked at her through the mirror again, fondling around her root hairs as if something was still not right about it, and her eyes reflected obtuse confusion at Hermione’s quietness. “Half an hour, I suspect. I hear that the guests are already arriving.” She spoke quietly, yet her words cut through Hermione’s heart like a scythe. Hermione looked up at the ceiling, suddenly hearing the clicking of footsteps, the creaking of floorboards upstairs.

She could hear the faint, jolly chuckle of a man and a giggle of a young woman. Were those the guests? Were they already seated upstairs, waiting for the big arrival of the bride? She wondered, in some depth of her brain, was pureblood Wizarding marriage like muggle marriages? Or at least a little similar. She felt a spark of excitement ignite in her shattered heart. What if it was like all of those classical movies that she used to watch with her parents. They had the most extravagant weddings and the most romantic nights afterwards. She knew, in the realistic part of her, that it would never be like that, but she could hope.

 _Hope._ It was the only thing that kept her going now. Hope — the thing humans thrive off of in situations like this. Too much hope and you become cocky in dangerous areas, and you’re a hazard. Too little hope and you become insecure, shy and closed off to the world. Just enough hope, and it can keep you going. That was all she needed, and all she had.

Allegra gave her dress a small tug, and she suddenly felt it tighten. As she looked back in the mirror, the former baggy and long dress she was wearing was now a tight, white ballgown which clutched at her curves and had a small trail behind it. Not too long, but just about right so that Hermione wouldn’t trip over. Hermione felt herself smile. Now she felt like a true princess, ready to make any man bow down at her feet whenever she pleased.

Allegra nodded her and smiled as she left the small room, mouthing a ‘good luck’. Hermione smiled her appreciation back. She felt dizzy as she faced the door — the door that would take her through the main hall to her new husband. She tried to calm herself down, by taking sharp, quick breaths, but it only made her feel worse. Her stomach tightened, and she felt as if she would cry at any moment.

But she didn’t want to feel weak to the snobby purebloods, _no_ , she wouldn’t show them that she was truly scared for her future. She would show them that she _was_ the brightest witch of her age, and a brave one too. She quickly saw a jar of roses beside her, and reached, grabbing a bundle of red and white roses as a bouquet to hopefully through to the crowd at the end.

However, before she could think of a positive coherent thought, she saw and heard the doors open, felt someone grab at the end of her dress, and was rushed into what she thought was immediate death.

There were tens, _no_ hundreds of old, strict-looking purebloods that had their heads turned around to get a look at the new bride. She saw some of their faces gasp, and cover their mouths with their hands as if to find her scandalous, others just had a poker face, and Hermione couldn’t read their expressions at all. But, the hallway was beautiful. Big, tapestry windows were planted on the walls, letting in the now afternoon light.

But the most important thing, was her husband; who was patiently waiting for her at the end of the aisle, smiling at her with an expression of hope and joy. He was in a smart, white suit, his blonde hair was slicked back in its usual fashion and Hermione thought, that with the light illuminating behind him, he looked like some sort of God, or at least, someone of great importance, which, to his credit, _he was._

As she walked down the aisle towards Draco, she tried to avoid eye contact with the guests that were watching her vividly, as if waiting for something to pick on her with. She did, however, catch the eye of Lucius, who was on the front row, his stone grey eyes looking unreadable and bored as usual.

She got up to Draco’s place, facing him, clutching the bouquet of white and red flowers in her hand with fierce anxiety. Draco’s calm, ocean blue gaze calmed her down slightly, but she still felt like having a breakdown. The priest, or, _whatever_ it was began to address the audience of guests, but Hermione wasn’t even listening anymore. All of it was just a blind blur in her ears, blocked out by all of her biting, snapping, unhappy thoughts.

However, she heard the familiar words echo inside her head in a mans voice. “Do you, Hermione Granger, take Draco Malfoy to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Hermione gulped. It wasn’t like she had a choice, was it? Reluctantly, her throat gone slightly raw, she managed to choke out: “I do.”

The man then turned to Draco, and repeated the exact same words, to which the blonde man replied the exact same way she did, only with a little more confidence and sounded less like he was going to cry at any moment. In fact, he looked more happier than anything. 

“Then, by the Ministry’s magical law, I hereby declare you husband and wife,” Hermione turned, her breathing suddenly gone shallow, the room dissolving into slow-motion. There, at the end of the hall, was a beautiful brunette, suited up for the occasion as a guest, her dark eyes were glinting with malice as she looked back at Hermione. Her pale, clear and glowing skin was in a pattern, reflected from the arabesques from the window that was lighted from the afternoon sunlight. The figure she soon recognised to be Astoria Greengrass, Draco’s former to-be wife. Astoria looked at her like she had stolen her prize. And Hermione knew that the prize was Draco’s affection.

_“You may kiss the bride.”_

Hermione’s vision of the brunette suddenly vanished, and felt the soft warm, inviting touch of Draco’s fingers on  the corner of her jaw, turning her head slowly towards him. Hermione’s breath hitched, and it seemed as if the entire world had suddenly gone quiet when she felt the soft brush of Draco’s lips against hers. Slowly, they both gave each other a small peck on the lips, though, their eyes were connected and open the entire time, looking into each other. The ocean blue deep-set eyes, and upturned dark brown eyes staring, unblinking.

Until they heard they loud roar of cheers from the crowd next to them. Separating, she could hear a faint breath of a chuckle from Draco, as he looked at the guests and have a most suave smile. Hermione only looked confused as she looked at her fingers. They were thin, dainty and very feminine, as they should be, but they were plain. Where was the ring? Was there supposed to be a ring, or was that just a muggle custom?

Draco gave her hand a tug and led her down the aisle again, and Hermione saw a little girl in the crowd of cheering purebloods, a dirty blonde one with chubby, rosy cheeks,  large blue eyes and pigtails. She smiled up at Hermione. Hermione smiled back, and then decided to give the little girl her bouquet of flowers, to which the girl gasped at giggled a ‘thank you!’. “Use it well,” Hermione told her, being dragged along by Draco she called to the little girl. “It will give you eternal luck!” And then she was dragged to the drawing room, where many more guests were waiting for them.

In the middle, was a large, stacked white cake, decorated with what Hermione assumed was icing made to look like scarily realistic roses and daisies. The guests immediately started talking cheerily and Hermione saw a house-elf using its magic to carefully cut the cake to give to the greedy-looking purebloods practically drooling to get a piece of cake. Most of the people in the room looked old, fat or cruel. But, there were the odd person that looked glamorous and undeniably classy. Some of the women that Hermione saw looked like something straight out of a James Bond film.

She saw Lucius, making small talk with two young women, and Hermione made a beeline to him. As she walked towards him, she heated some foreign people muttering things under their breaths on the corner of the room. 

_ “Pensez-vous qu'elle a déjà couché avec le jeune homme?”_

_ “Elle le devra bientôt, bien que j'imagine, qu'avec un joli visage comme le sien..."_

Hermione noticed their voices trailing off as they caught Hermione listening in on their conversation. Hermione decided to focus her attention on Lucius, as she did not understand fluent French (she knew some basic words, but not a full sentence spoken quickly by an actual Parisian). Lucius seemed to notice her, and with one hand on a champagne glass, he waved the guests away and took a large sip.

He didn’t look awful, in fact, he looked rather handsome (not as handsome as _Draco_ , might she add) and his breath didn't stink of alcohol for once. Though, that would soon be changed with the bubbling champagne. Hermione watched as he blinked at her, looking down and up her dress and she could see a small upturn in  the corner of his faint smile.

”You look lovely today, Miss Granger,” he spoke, taking another swig at his glass. Hermione nodded her thanks towards him, but decided to press the issue she was more concerned about.

”Why are there so many people here?” She whispered under her breath, wondering if anybody could hear her. Lucius leaned in, as if to whisper too. “They are friends and family of the Malfoy’s. They are here to see and celebrate the new union of the heir of the family with his,” he paused for a moment. “Bride.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “They all hate me. Even you know that.” Lucius was about to drink more from his glass, till he realised it was empty, and carefully placed it down on a mahogany table beside him.

“They only hate you because you are a mud—“ He paused, taking a deep breath as if to rethink his word choice. “— _muggleborn_.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. He was about to say mudblood. She knew; he didn’t cover it up fast enough. “Is Narcissa not coming?” She dared to ask, and regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth, because Lucius’ grey eyes suddenly shined with dark hatred. His fists were clenched, and were almost white.

”No. Narcissa doesn’t want to be involved with me or the family anymore,” Hermione’s eyes widened. Before she could ask where she was, Lucius seemed to read her mind. “She is living with Andromeda and helping her raise Teddy Lupin — that _werewolf’s_ child.” He hissed the word, as if it disgusted him beyond belief. Hermione could barely hear him over the loud chuckles and talking of the guests in the same hall, echoing off the walls as they did so.

Lucius seemed to look around to see if people were looking or listening in on the conversation. “Why don’t we go get Draco, to get the _real_ marriage vows done?” Hermione gulped. Was it that slitting ritual that she had read in that book earlier that morning? They went across the room, in the direction of Draco (who was, the centre of attention) and the crowd seemed to part like the Red Sea. 

Lucius beckoned Draco to follow them, to which the blonde slightly scowled, but followed his father nonetheless. They went through the hallway, away from the noise. They went through a dark, damp cellar, that was down a thin and dangerous-looking stairs. The room was barely lit, and Hermione spotted a table, with a vial and a knife on it. She began to slightly panic, and Draco seemed to have a similar but more concealed reaction.

Lucius handed the knife to Draco, and he quickly slit his wrist, a small and thin cut seeping small drops of blood. Lucius held the vial next to the wound, and soon enough, it was filling with Draco’s blood. Lucius then took out his wand and muttered a spell which then instantly healed his cut, his skin looking like nothing happened to it. He then turned to Hermione, the knife handed to her, and with a shaky hand, she cut her wrist, wincing in pain and screwing her eyes tightly shut.

Lucius put the vial next to it, and her blood was soon in a mixture with Draco’s. He put his wand to her wound (which stung a bit), murmured a spell, and her wound was healed, feeling strange as her skin tugged back to where it was supposed to be before being severed. She turned to Draco and he shot her a solemn look.

Lucius then went to the desk, muttered another spell, and the vial instantly morphed into a golden-lined, shining beautiful ring. The ‘jewel’ inside was red, and looked like a ruby, but inside it was actually her and Draco’s solidified blood. It then duplicated as Lucius tapped his wand on it (which let out a soft, _ting_ ). He handed the rings to Draco and Hermione.

Hermione twirled it around on her finger, putting it on reluctantly, feeling it tighten and heat up. Instinctively, she tried to tug it off, out the ring stayed put, and wouldn’t budge. 

“Can we not take these off?” Lucius shook his head. “Why not?”

“The ministry knew that some... _unfortunate_ couples would not get along. These rings form your bond, and therefore you cannot harm each other at all.” He then patted his son on the back comfortingly. “It was required of everybody, and you did well.”

Draco nodded at his fathers general direction. Hermione blinked. “What do we do now?” She asked, thinking of the guests that were wondering where the new couple were. Lucius turned his back on them, going up the stairs.

“You will be entertaining the guests for the rest of the evening,” he drawled lazily. “ _Do try and not aggravate them, Miss Granger._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

The evening was quiet, abnormally quiet. All the guests were gone by the time it turned 9:00pm, and the house-elves were left to clean up their mess. Hermione was sitting on the staircase, staring at her new, unmoving ruby-coloured ring. This was the ornament that would signify their bond. This would be a part of history when she died. 

Draco clearly noticed her sulking, and walked over to her, his pale, narrow face was illuminated in the moon-light through the panelled windows. He was still in his fancy suit from the wedding. He sat down beside her on the stairs, smiling. “At least it’s over, Granger,” he spoke, also looking at his new ring. Hermione sighed, looking at the crescent moon through the large windows.

Draco looked at her for a moment, looking defeated as he saw her sad expression. He then jumped up and walked over to a cabinet of some sort and opened a vinyl, tuning the disc until a lovely, quiet piano tune started playing, he then walked over and held out his hand. Hermione looked up at him in confusion.

”Shall we dance?” He asked her, smiling as Hermione nodded and took his hand gratefully, pulling her up and had his hand resting on her hip, the other connected with his hand. 

They slowly waltzed, looking into each other’s eyes as the moonlight painted their faces a ghostly white. Draco smiled lazily as he pressed his forehead against Hermione’s. Her hands were now holding each other, her elbows resting on Draco’s shoulders. 

“I just wanted to say,” he paused, looking straight into her eyes, and she swore she could see his pupils dilate slightly. “That you looked beautiful this evening.” He finished with a sharp intake of breath. Hermione felt her face tug at a large, genuine smile. “You looked amazing today, too.” She quipped back at him, trying to find an equally good thing to say.

She felt her chest suddenly ache, and her head felt dizzy. She felt her stomach turn to jelly, and she felt like putty in his hands. “They thought we would have a child by now,” Draco spoke quietly. “They will be talking about us in the newspapers: ‘the barren couple, unable to have a child’.” Hermione let out a shaky breath, and let her forehead rest against Draco’s shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his neck.

“My mother taught me how to waltz, with this song,” he breathed in her neck. Hermione felt herself hug him further as the song slowly ended. His hands drifted away from her hips and they disconnected, their hands holding together, their foreheads touching as they looked into each other’s eyes, their pupils glistening with hope and trust. “Don’t be sorry—I’m not over it, but I can handle tragedy.”

They both stayed silent for a few moments, unmoving, just appreciating the touch between them, the _hope_ that was radiating off of each other, and Hermione swore she could feel a magnetic connection through their rings for a moment. Draco kissed her cheek faintly and sweetly, before brushing his mouth against the lobe of her ear.

“We will get through this, Granger, I promise you. We will need a child, yes, but after that, we can both live a peaceful life and the Ministry won’t pester us anymore. Promise me you won’t give up?”

Hermione looked up, her chin grazing the edge of Draco’s shoulder. She could see the moon so clearly. It was pure white, and the stars were scattered across the black sky. She then nuzzled her face back in his shoulder.

“I promise for as long as I live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlined French Text:
> 
> *** "Do you think she will sleep with the young man yet?"
> 
> *** "She will have to soon, though I imagine, with a pretty face like hers..."
> 
> The song that Draco and Hermione were dancing to was Schuman: Kinderszenen Op. 15 No.7, Träumerei (Horowitz)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione teaches Draco about muggle things, they go for a walk in the park and things escalate very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly shorter than it should be, but hopefully it will make up for you ;))
> 
> Things haven't been going great with writers block lately so I'm currently struggling but honestly, I'm thriving on Billie Eilish and Lana Del Rey so that's fine ;-;

_"Fulminimens."_

A small electric bolt surged through Hermione's wand and into a small muggle contraption that was slowly cooking her toast for her. Hermione had brought along these muggle electronics without thinking that the Malfoy's did not have plug sockets in their house, which powered her toaster.

So, using the spells she learned a month ago, she used it to her advantage. The morning was fresh, and birds came flying to the edge of her window, tweeting a song that whistled against the spring breeze. She hummed as she then buttered the now cooked toast and spread over it with marmalade.

Beside her on a table, on a plate, was an already cooked bacon and eggs, she then added the toast to the mix and began to carry the plate upstairs to her and Draco's bedroom.

It was only yesterday that she was wed to her former enemy at school, and now they bore a ring that they could not take off. Sometimes, she could still feel the faint brush of Draco's thin lips against hers, echoing like a figment of her imagination.  She could still feel the ghostly touch of his fingertips touching her jaw, pulling in towards him-

She shook off the inappropriate thoughts of him and opened the door (it squeaked as it opened) and she could hear Draco stir quietly. She set the plate on the table, and approached Draco, brushing her hand against his forehead. She chuckled at the sight of him sleeping, clutching the pillow like a teddy bear, his soft snores in a melodic rhythm with his slow breaths. His blonde hair was messy and was spiked against the bedsheets (which were now crumpled and dirty - she made a mental note to clean it today).

She leaned in as she whispered near his ear. "Malfoy, wake up." Draco scrunched his nose and then one of his eyes blinked open, squinted as it looked up at Hermione. He groaned into the pillow as he buried his face in it. "Ngh, Granger, can't I have five more minutes?"

She rolled her eyes and ripped the duvet off of him, and he looked at her with annoyance. He slowly stirred at got up. She went and got his plate for him, setting it down on his lap, watching with an amused expression as Draco tentatively sniffed at the delicious smell wafting around the room.

"I made you breakfast, and you'd better eat it," she spoke clearly as if she was lecturing him and she saw Draco raise his eyebrow. She then headed into the bathroom to wash herself. Turning the shower on, she undressed herself and closed the door and could faintly hear the loud munching of Draco and his breakfast.

Like usual, the water from the shower made Hermione feel so much better, and she began to hum happily as she scrubbed the soap suds into her skin, the tepid water warm against her flesh as she could see the glass cloud up. Feeling still happy and clean, she drew a quick smiley face in the glass that was cloudy with condensation.

Before she could react, however, Draco decided that it was a good time to query where he should put his plate. Hermione stopped dead as they both shared awkward stares. She could see Draco's blue eyes dart quickly up and down her body before he cleared his throat, apologized and closed the door shut.

Hermione gulped and suddenly, the water felt cold. She shut the shower off and quickly put on a towel and dried herself. She twitched as time went slowly. Why wouldn't she dry quicker, damn it?

She cast a drying charm, put on her clothes and slowly opened the door a crack to see Draco playing with a puppy on the edge of the bed. She came out, and shut the door behind her. The silence was deafening. 

 Hermione quickly decided to break it. "Um, about what you saw-" She stopped, her mouth still ajar as Draco waved it off as if it meant nothing to him. "Don't worry about it," he sighed, leaning back on his hands, his shoulders raising. "I was just going to ask you how did you manage to cook my toast?"

Hermione blinked for a few moments before letting out a breath of laughter. "Oh," she giggled. "Well, then I'll show you." She grabbed her wand from inside her drawer and flicked it once. " _Accio toaster!_ ", she cried as she saw in the corner of her eye was Draco looking incredibly confused. "Toaster? What-"

But before he could finish his sentence, a metal toaster flew through the door and straight into Hermione's hand. Draco's face now looked more confused than ever. "What is _this?_ " Hermione felt her skin pull into another smile, she thought, finding Draco looking so clueless and confused was honestly hilarious.

"I didn't exactly tell you, but I brought some useful muggle devices to this house," she told him, watching with curiosity as his eyebrows almost raised all the way to his hairline. Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione stopped him before he could. "This cooked your toast this morning, so it _is_ useful, before you argue about that, _Malfoy_." She punctuated her words harshly. 

That shut him up. 

Hermione turned her attention to the device. "You have to put the bread into these," she indicated to the two relatively small slits in the top of the toaster. "And then, you push this down and wait for a few minutes before it pops back up, all cooked." She saw Draco fiddle with the small lever that lazily drifted up and down.

He frowned. "Is it supposed to do that?" Hermione shook her head quickly. "No. It needs electricity to work," she explained quickly, like she usually did, knowing the exact answer straight from a textbook - just like at Hogwarts. Draco's head tilted to one side. "Elec-what?"

Hermione smiled again, and tried to make it go away by biting her lips, but only made it worse. "Electricity," she spoke clearly, and Draco nodded at her in understanding. "It's something that powers most muggle devices," she then looked back at the toaster, setting it down on the bed. "Like this."

Draco looked at the toaster and blinked in confusion. "But how did you get this," he paused. " _El_ _ectricity_ if only muggles use it?"

Hermione gulped at pondered on how she would explain this to Draco. She couldn't tell him that she had been snooping in his father's notebook, oh no. She couldn't tell him about plugs, he wouldn't understand because there are no plugs. And, she couldn't tell him that it didn't usually need electricity, for he would find out soon enough that it was a lie, if he were to try and use it. Hermione felt her brain slowly working, and Draco raised his eyebrows in confusion, as if urging her to give him an answer. Thankfully enough, after that, a puppy (the one that had a pink collar) barked loudly, it's tongue slobbering out of its long snout, and jumped onto Hermione, with its tail wagging so fast it hit Hermione's legs hard every time. 

Hermione laughed and began to pat the tongue, getting a few licks on her cheek from the happy puppy. It looked the same as the adult hunting dogs that the family had generally had, but the puppy had round, beautifully adorable eyes and a large white patch on its right eye.

"What's its name?" Hermione asked Draco as she continued to give the dog affection through lots of puts, scratches, and cuddles. Draco's attention seemed to averted too, as he was also patting the puppy. He chuckled at her question.

" _It_ is a girl Hermione, and _she's_ called Emma." Draco eyed her with amusement at Hermione's scowl. Hermione then turned to the puppy and began to scratch its chin (which the puppy seemed to enjoy greatly). Draco then seemed to be looking thoughtfully into space, and Hermione could almost see the cogs working in his head. She turned her attention to him, though her hand was still stroking softly through Emma's flank.

"I was wondering, Granger," he started, then raising his fist to his mouth to clear his throat quietly. "That we could talk together without being confined into this massive, old house," Hermione raised an eyebrow at that. "I mean - could we go somewhere to just _talk_ and get our heads straight, you know?"

Hermione found herself smiling yet again, and she could see a small twinkle of relief and happiness behind Draco’s azure eyes. She could feel her fingers fiddling around her new, silver, shining ring, and clenched around it tightly, not even knowing that she was doing so. Biting her lip, and looking at him through his eyelashes nervously, she whispered loudly. 

“I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

 

However, they didn’t actually go to Diagon Alley. They went to a small village just near Wiltshire and found that there was a nice-looking park there. It also helped Draco get used to muggles a bit. She didn’t really reach him anything, but she could see that every time a muggle walked by, he would stare at them with such intense curiosity, Hermione thought that he looked like she did in 1st year when she wasn’t eager to answer a question in class. She thought he looked rather cute, though she would never admit or show it.

The park was rather modest if she could’ve been honest. Modest, but beautiful in its own unique way. The grass was lush and green, and the leaves on the trees were starting to blossom for spring and summer, and the early morning dew were still hanging on the tips of the canopy’s. The poppies in the field were bright red and swaying in the wind. And the small creek, with gentle water meandering through small rocks and pebbles was flowing through a v-shaped hill. And there was the odd dark mahogany bench that stood beside the path. It was late afternoon (because they did not have car, and did not wish to apparate as they might disturb muggles, so they walked a lengthy distance).

The both decided to walk along the path, marvelling in the way the cherry blossoms fell from their branches, and settled gracefully into a flower blanket on the ground. Draco smiled for a moment, and then turned to Hermione. “This,” he raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. “This is nice.” He chuckles as he uttered the words. Hermione smiled back at him. “Yeah,” She agreed. “It’s nice to get out of that manor for once.”

Draco nodded his approval of her notion. He bit his lip nervously. “They still expect us to try and make a child,” Hermione closed her eyes, trying to not think about the ugly truth that Draco was pointing out. “The public and Ministry, I mean.” He paused for another moment, looking Hermione up and down as if to check that she wasn’t going to lash out at him again.

Hermione felt her nose scrunch with anger, as she narrowed her eyes when looking back at Malfoy. “Why do they even want us to conceive yet? We were only married a day ago!” Draco held his hands up as if to surrender or calm her down. He then shrugged. “They want us to have children quicker so that they can fill the forms.”

Hermione felt her hair bristle with anger. “ _The forms?_ ” She hissed. Draco nodded very slowly, and it was so small that she barely noticed it. “So that they know which family to contact if anything goes wrong.” He whispered hoarsely.

”If anything goes wrong? So the Ministry is following our every move?” Hermione could feel her voice going higher by an octave every time she took a breath. Draco folded his arms, and began tapping his feet nervously.

”In case you haven’t noticed, you are now tied with one of the richest families in Britain,” he frowned at her as he spoke. “We will be watched, and our every move will be recorded for the media. Our lives, however much we want them to be, will not be private.”

Hermione saw red. “So you think that’s still a good reason to breed women to men most don’t even know just because of their blood? Women are losing their jobs because of this law, including me, Malfoy! I was forced to stop 7th year halfway, I haven’t even done my N.E.W.Ts because they don’t think it’s necessary since I won’t even get a job! Do you know how hard I worked to get that deputy position? I earned through my place in the war! And you still get to keep your job as a Ministry helper and a Banker even though you have done _nothing_ to contribute during the war! Why do you still get to keep your job? Because you’re a fucking man! A man! This is sexism, Malfoy! We’re going back 72 years to women not even getting the right to vote! This is bullshit, and I can’t believe that you don’t even understand any of this!”

Draco’s blue eyes surged with fierce anger. “Why the fuck are you bringing me into this? I didn’t make this goddamn law, so stop screaming at me! Unless you want to go to Azkaban, you’re going to have to sleep with me, Granger! What would you rather do?” Hermione clenched her jaw tightly, seriously beginning to think about it.

Draco’s eyes dropped into a lazy, unimpressed look, one eyebrow raised and arms folded with eyes dropping. “The fact that you’re actually considering that is seriously offending me,” Hermione snorted and sneered at Malfoy. “You’ve terrorised me for at least seven years, became part of a racist cult for a year and tried to kill my best friend, and you think that I will sleep with you, because all the girls think you’re hot? Well, news flash! I don’t think you’re hot. In fact I think you’re fucking ugly on the inside,” she spat at him.

Draco’s eyes flashed with some sort of sadness or hurt as she continued to yell at him. She rounded on him, her hands balled into fists, turning white with anger. “You’re arrogant, lazy, cruel, and you just think you’re _so_ fucking superior, well guess what, you’re shit stinks just like everyone else does, and we’re all the same!” She suddenly leaned in, her eyes blazing with malice. “Just because you’re a pureblood boy who was born on a carpet of money with the Minister patting your bum, you still have the same blood as me, and you’re just as cruel as muggles, and I could think of so many other people I would rather sleep with, _rather than you._ ”

Draco was now taking shaky breaths, his teeth clenched. “You know what? I didn’t ask for this either! So stop trying to be playing the fucking victim here! I could’ve been marrying the love of my life, Astori—“ 

Hermione swore she could feel every molecule in her body grimace at his venomous words, but she fought back with equally sharp words.

” _No!_ We are _not_ have this argument again! I’m so _sick_ of you trying to bring this stupid excuse into these kind of things! Astoria and you were only going to be married so that you could get a heir so that your _precious_ pureblood family would continue!” She snarled.

Draco was now so close to her that she could feel his hot breath rasp against her skin. “I do love Astoria! I still do! I have since our Hogwarts years—“

Hermione didn’t seem to notice that their chests were now touching ever so slightly. “Well _I_ definitely know that she never loved you! She just wanted you for the money, like every other girl! _God_ , for a Slytherin you can be so fucking naïve.” She scoffed at him. 

She could see Draco’s Adam’s apple bob for a moment. Hermione noticed that his face was flushed red with anger, his arched eyebrows now pinpointed into his eye gap, his once calm (just a few moments ago) ocean blue eyes, were a now piercing, threatening ice blue, staring straight into her dark brown ones, as if straight into her soul. “You don’t know that, you—you never talked to her at Hogwarts! You’re fucking insane, you don’t even know what you talking about, you muggle bitc—“

She fiercely grabbed at his shoulders, the clothing folding as she did so, and yanked him harshly towards her, his body jerking forward, as their eyes burned into each other. His face contorted with a burning confusion before Hermione’s white fingers digging into Draco’s cheeks, cupping them and forcing him to face her. Quickly, she smashed her lips into his, her hot lips opening wantonly as her body pressed tightly against him. Draco stumbled for a moment before he regained himself, and kissed her fiercely back, and she felt her lip shiver in pain as he nipped at her lower lip. His hands connected and dug into her lower back, pushing her closer to him. Hermione’s vision was now going slightly fuzzy as both of their mouths opened together, lips locking perfectly together as if a lock and key, passion sealing their angry desire. 

As she reacted to this abuse, her body also reacted as well. Her hips began to move, grinding ever so slightly against his crotch, and she could feel her loins heat up, spark, make a fire. And Draco was the wood to that fire. For all that they could hear and focus on the moment, was the feeling of their emotions all of a sudden connected in on movement. He tasted like minty gum, and his groans were like music to her ears. His crotch shifted slightly, and his now (rather obvious) bulge was now brushing right against her clitoris, and she moaned into his mouth, her voice suddenly gone squeaky.

One of his hands were now coming tantalisingly closer to the hem of her shirt, fiddling with the edge, as if threatening to remove or rip it off any moment. Her heart was beating faster than it ever had been since she had been battling someone and her head was swimming with amazingly lustful thoughts. She hesitantly opened her eyes as she realised that her bare shoulder was cold against the wind of the spring afternoon, noticing that he was taking her shirt off. Between kisses, she breathed out an ‘ _oh fuck_ ’ before placing her hands on Malfoy’s chest, separating the lengthily passion. 

Their breaths were long and shaky, Malfoy’s blonde hair was matted and his face had almost the exact same colour as a tomato. Hermione’s hair was slightly frizzy (calming down) and her lips were swollen and a sweet, strawberry red. They both gulped at the same time.

Hermione looked up at him through a still dazed, lusty vision. “I guess sleeping with you might not be so bad.” She put it simply, and wiped her lips, hoping to fix up her lipstick.

Draco gave his signature smirk. “Yeah, maybe.”

They headed home with ruffled clothes, aroused bodies, and went to sleep rigidly, not daring to touch each other. That was the longest night she'd ever had in her entire life. So much for a nice walk in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're comments, kudos and, even bookmarks really help me with writing (especially when I'm struggling, or generally don't know what to write), so I would greatly appreciate if you could give me some support, or even some constructive criticism would be great for me to consider with the plot and all.
> 
> I love you guys <33


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione find out a surprising secret, and her and Draco get down to business to create a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sexual content, so if that's not up your alley, I advise to skip the chapter.

The floors echoed with the sound of Hermione’s high heels as she walked to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. It was almost lunch, and Draco was still fast asleep. It had been two weeks since their argument in the park; and they still hadn't slept together. By this time, the public were confused and Ministry were positively annoyed with them.

They had received a letter yesterday (with the signature red seal on it) that read about their time they had left out of Azkaban. She and Draco were running out of time now, and they had to do something before they were sent to prison for a long period of time.

Hermione scoffed at the thought. The Ministry had even sent them women chocolate-vanilla flavoured lubricant, some sort of spicy-scented perfume and cologne, and toys for them to play around with, for some sort of celebration gift for their marriage. They hadn’t sent condoms, though. It was very clear that the Ministry was cornering them into one place. And that place was conceiving a child. 

She sighed as she stirred her lapsang souchong around with the sugar. She nearly tapped the teaspoon on the edge of the cup, and placed it near the washing basin. She took a sip of the warm tea, marvelling how it instantly made her feel warmer, cosier— _comfortable_.

When she finished the tea (which was done very quickly), she placed it on the counter where she usually saw the elves preparing food on, and turned to her spoon and cast a quick cleaning charm, which she learned from Molly Weasley.

She leaned on the counter, feeling bored and not knowing what to do next. She knew that she needed to discuss conceiving a child with Draco, however much they didn’t want it. She felt a strange lump in her throat. She didn’t mean to snap at him sometimes, and it only stirred up their ‘relationship’ even more. She had to fix things with him, otherwise she would live a lifeless, miserable marriage with him. And that was never what she wanted. She only wanted for him to see how trapped and scared she was, because she was terrified.

The sun was in the sky, and shining brightly. She raised her eyebrows in boredom as she stared at nothing in particular. Then, she heard a faint clash of what sounded like papers hit the floor by the door.

She went to investigate, and perhaps answer to door, but Draco was already there, with a newspaper (most likely the daily prophet), hands shaking in anger. Hermione gulped. She didn’t want another fight with him.

Draco looked up at her, his eyes glinting with malice through the strands of his dirty blonde hair, that was his usual messy morning hair. Hermione walked over slowly, as if approaching a dangerous animal. “What is it?” She queried. She could see Draco’s jaw clench, and then he tilted his hand to show the front page of the newspaper. Hermione gasped.

_’THE FIRST CHILD OF THE MARRIAGE LAW IS BORN — BENJAMIN FRANK LONGBOTTOM’_ Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. She couldn’t believe it! She still, however, kept reading. 

‘Benjamin Longbottom was born on an early morning at 2:34am, on May 17th 1997. His parents, Luna Longbottom (neé Lovegood) and Neville Longbottom are proud and overjoyed to have a son.’ Below that, Hermione could see a picture of a chubby baby, clutching a small toy between its tiny hands. She smiled inwardly to herself, noticing how the baby had Neville’s round face and nose, but had Luna’s tufts of blonde hair. It’s face was a ruddy red, mostly around its cheeks, and showed that it was still a newborn baby, that and, it’s eyes were scrunched shut.

”But how, I—” Hermione was lost for words. She tried to use her confusion to try and calm Draco down, for his jaw was clenched hard, and he had a visible tendon forming around his temple. Draco snatched the newspaper back, slamming it down on the table and looked sharply at Hermione.

She put up her arms defensively, as if to show a clear sign of her being uninterested in fighting. “Do you know what this means, Granger?” His words were calm, but felt dangerously empty. Hermione shook her head silently, hoping not to spark the slightest anger in him. “It _means_ that we have to conceive a child straight away.”

Hermione’s face suddenly went a pearly white, and Draco seemed to notice her face that was positively grotesque with fear. He sneered at her cruelly. “That’s right. We were supposed to have the first child from this law, but now that that’s out of the window, we’ll have to have the second child from this law then, I suppose.”

Hermione gasped quietly, more like a sharp intake of breath. “We were supposed to have the first child?” She pressed. Draco turned away, clicking his fingers and ordering one of the house elves (Hermione couldn’t see which one) to tell a healer that they were coming over. Hermione felt confused. Draco then turned to her. “Oh yes, being the most influential family in Britain has some pressures.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrow. “You called a healer?” Draco nodded. “Yes. After all, someone has to sort out your questions about pregnancy.” Hermione felt herself bristle defensively. “I know enough about pregnancy!”

Draco did not argue back, only stared at her with a stubborn look, as he took her arm and swiftly apparated to where the Healer was, which was, a small cottage in Wales.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The wind whistled through her hair, as it the brown curls harshly slapped against her face. Suddenly she felt cold, and felt her hand brush softly across a reed of some sort. She found herself and Draco standing in a golden field. Ahead of them, a small wooden cottage. Draco took her hand and gently pulled her forwards to follow him.

He knocked on the door twice and waited patiently for an answer. He tapped his foot a few times, and looked at his watch. “She should be here...”

As if someone heard him, the door clicked open, and no one was holding it open for them. Draco stepped in first, the wooden, polished floorboard creaking loudly as he did so. Hermione nervously stepped in behind him, wondering if there was anyone home. But in front of her, she saw a figure hunched over a desk.

As they came over, they saw her inspecting some sort of magnified cell. She was a short, pudgy Asian woman with black hair tied into a bun neatly. Though she had a strict, thin lined mouth, her eyes shone with friendliness; and reminded Hermione of Molly Weasley. 

“Healer Osumi,” Draco began, startling the poor woman. He bowed his slightly in an apologetic manner at her scolding stare. “What exactly are you doing?” She huffed in response, setting her wand down and beginning to pace a shelf on the other side of the room, that was packed with flasks of potions. “Nothing that you would understand, young man. No...not at all.” She murmured as she stood on a ladder, carefully examining the shelf thoughtfully.

Draco cleared his throat to explain why they were here, but the Healer quickly interrupted him. “Here about the new law, are you?” Draco blinked in surprise. “Actually, yes.” Healer Osumi huffed in what seemed like exasperation. “Of course. I’m assuming that you need a fertility potion, hm?” Draco nodded, looking down at the floor in what seemed like shame.

The healer tutted to herself and examined the labels of the flasks before setting them back, sliding to the other side of the shelf on her ladder, and began her search there. “This law...troubling thing. Fortunately, when you are an anonymous person like me living in the rural countryside, they won’t take notice of you,” Hermione gulped and raised her voice as she spoke.

”Then why are they breeding people like me and Draco?” The Healer took in a deep breath as she found the flask she wanted and climbed down the ladder, heading towards her desk again, setting the flask down. 

“Because you lot fought in that war, did you not? It shows strong magical ability and resilience because you are not dead. They want that in the new generation of children, not that I agree with it.” The Healer seemed to add some herbs in the flask, dissolving as it flowed through the water, and then she stirred the potion with a similar stirring rod to what Professor Snape used to use. 

Hermione shuffled her feet awkwardly, not knowing what to say next. Then the Healer added something else to the conversation as she turned around and handed Hermione a fertility potion. “I remember when you were still a little boy, Draco. You grew up so fast, and now you will be having a child, soon!” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

”Are you the Malfoy’s personal healer or something?” She asked as she took a small sniff at the potion, grimacing as she did so. Why do all potions smell and taste horrible?

Osumi nodded. “Oh yes, I was the one who helped with the birth of Draco,” Hermione smiled cheekily at the disgusted look on Draco’s face. “I am a private healer after all.” She then turned directly to Hermione. “Drink the potion, young lady,” Hermione grimaced and tried to swallow the thick, gooey liquid down her tight throat. She gasped and cringed as she felt her stomach grumble loudly. She scowled as Draco sniggered.

The healer nodded, looking strangely happy as Hermione set the flask back on the table, trying to get the disgusting taste off of her tongue. Healer Osumi then turned to her, with a more serious expression on her face. “Now, you will get slightly drowsy—perhaps sudden fatigue. This will usually pass in less than five minutes. If it continues longer than this, do not be afraid to call me over, alright?”

Hermione nodded in understanding, a little afraid of these side effects. Draco began to stuff his hands in his pockets, clearly trying to get something out of it. Osumi shook her hands and chuckled. “Young Malfoy, I do not need your money,” Draco looked surprised. “Really? Are you sure?” The Healer nodded at him, turning to her work on the desk. “Now, I need to work on something, you run along and be sure to watch for side effects.”

Draco took Hermione’s arms and walked her out of the house. He then looked deep into her eyes. “We’ll have to make this quick, alright?” Hermione only stared back at him, defiantly, unblinking. Draco’s eye twitched for a moment, before apparating without a warning, and Hermione felt her stomach turn unhappily.

 

* * *

 

She was settling back at the manor, on the sofa. Waiting for her dizziness to pass over, for Draco was waiting patiently for her in the bedroom. A tempting, half-full wine glass stood before her, on a counter. Without thinking, she drowned it down quickly. She looked into nothing, her eyes beginning to blink slowly, her vision drowning out. She felt empty, and felt like she was missing something. She wanted to cry, but nothing came out.

She got up, her feet feeling numb, her mind blank as she began to walk up the stairs, her fingers softly drifting across the marble banister. She almost got to the top when she felt her feet give way, and she toppled down slowly, falling forwards, she braced for impact. But it never came.

”You ought to watch your footing, Miss Granger.” A deep, familiar gravelly voice spoke to her. She looked up, finding herself in the arms of none other than Lucius Malfoy.

She exhaled sharply, quickly getting to her feet. “Sorry,” she mumbled, rather undignified of her. “Side effects of a—“ she cleared her throat awkwardly under Lucius’ strangely curious blue gaze. “—potion I took.” His eyebrows rose slightly, and brushed some dust off of her shirt. Hermione instinctively bristled at the contact.

He turned back to her, his eyes burning through her, the intensity of his stare making her face heat up. He cleared his throat, and helped her up the rest of the stairs.

“Be sure to be careful about this potion before you—“ he paused suddenly, looking at her as if she suddenly did something incredibly rude. “— _interact_ with Draco.” His words felt bitter, and to Hermione, he looked slightly jealous.

Hermione smiled at him faintly, hoping that it would suffice, and passed him, reaching the doorknob to her and Draco’s bedroom. She opened the door, hoping that Draco wasn’t waiting right for her. Luckily, he was not. He was working in the study, presumably doing something while he was waiting for her. She hurriedly rushed into the bathroom, taking her wand in with her too.

She bent over the sink and turned the tap on, splashing her face with water, hoping it would calm her nerves. She then looked at her body in the mirror. She never really considered herself attractive compared to most of her classmates. She wasn’t beautiful like Cho Chang, or well endowed like Pavarti. She was lean, and maybe on the skinny side. Her breasts weren’t all that big, but where her chest was flat, her hips made up for it in size. Her hips were wide, her thighs were muscled and she didn’t really think that her ass was large, but, it was a reasonable size.

She self consciously squeezed her breasts through her clothing, checking if you could even feel them. To her surprise, she could. Perhaps her breasts were not that big, but they were perky and had a nice, round shape that she was rather fond of. 

Quickly, she used a cleaning charm on herself, and muttered a spell which took out the hairs on her legs and in the crevice of her cunt. She thought that she was done, and, taking a deep breath, she prepared herself, and went outside to face Draco. 

She saw him there, sat near his desk, scribbling something down, and occasionally dipping his peacock feather quill into the inkpot. She cleared her throat, quickly grabbing his attention. “I’m er, ready.” She spoke as clearly as she could, trying not to make her voice quiver under his playful smirk that formed.

”I see,” he answered, getting up and walking slowly towards her, just as a predator would to hunt its prey. “I suppose you should get on the bed then, hm?” She gulped loudly.

Feeling her stomach turning strangely, she sat herself on the bed, brushing her hand through the silk sheets, marvelling at how soft they were. While she did not generally like sleeping with Malfoy, she had to admit the bed was the most comfortable thing she’d ever slept in.

She felt startled when Malfoy came to her with a strange mischievous glint in his eyes, his face slightly darkened. As he leaned in to her, she could feel his lips peck at her tender neck, his breath hot. She could feel her face heat up rapidly. “Malfoy—I’m-I’m a virgin.” She stuttered through rapid inhaled of breath.

Malfoy didn’t seem to stop, and only began to kiss her neck deeper. “That’s alright,” he murmured between her skin, beginning to nip at her earlobe, to which she squeaked. “I’m going to make you feel good, alright?”

His words comforted her, as much as she hated to admit it.

His fingers began to tease the hem of her low-cut shirt, and were practically begging to rip her clothes open. Draco smiled against her, looking down at her shirt, and raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ll be needing these.” He began to unbutton her shirt quickly, and in return, Hermione found her hand reaching onto his chest, clutching at his hips, and then drifting to his crotch.

She began to curiously knead his cock through his trousers, which she noticed, were getting quickly tighter. She looked at Draco’s face, wanting to see a reaction. To her delight, his face was slightly pink, and his breathing was becoming more rapid. She squeezed him rather hard, and he let out an undignified groan.

She smiled at him, revelling in her new victory as he shirt became undone, revealing her black cotton bra. Draco looked at her, his eyes glazed with desire as he captured her lips in a deep kiss. And began to feel her loins heat up, and her heartbeat began to rapidly quicken. She was rather nervous, not knowing exactly what to do.

He drew back, and licked his lips. His hands deftly reached the sides of her jeans, pulling them down with effort and staring at her knickers. Now on her back, Hermione squirmed awkwardly under him. 

She gasped as she felt one of his fingers rub her slit through her thin clothing. He looked at her with interest as her face began to contort with pleasure. His thumb found a sensitive spot, and began to rub her clit in circles, the pressure of his fingers making her breath hitch. He licked his lips again, and hooked a finger over her knickers, threatening to take them off.

He stared at her with a questioning look, and she stared back at him with a look in her eyes that screamed ‘fuck me’. He smirked annoyingly, and took off her pants. She gasped at the contact of the cold air, even though her core felt hotter than lava right now. She felt unsure what to do as she looked at Malfoy stare at her cunt, his trousers now looked like they were beginning to hurt.

His fingers brushed teasingly against her, and she bucked her hips, desperate for more contact. “Damn it, Malfoy! You’re killing me here!” She growled under her breath. He chuckled darkly, his voice velvety and thick. “That’s the idea, Granger.”

As if he listened to her desperate request, his fingers spread her labia, and another finger (from a different hand) began to circle her clit once again, and then rubbing roughly against it as he saw Hermione’s toes curl in pleasure. He then looked at her with a glint of lust and then buried his lips into her.

Hermione gasped suddenly, and she jolted at the feeling of his slippery tongue spreading across the inner walls of her pussy. Draco, also, was greatly enjoying himself. He so missed the deep, musky scent of feminine arousal. His tongue then withdrew from her insides, and began to circle her clit in a slow figure of eight. He felt delighted when he could feel her cunt throb against his mouth.

Her moans was music to his ears. She was being loud, not that he minded of course. His cock was rubbing painfully against the hard fabric of his trousers, and he had a fierce urge to just take them off and pound her into the sheets, but he knew he should take this slowly. He drew back from her heated pussy, feeling disappointed as he did so, but he then slowly and carefully inserted his finger into her slick heat.

Her insides took his finger in eagerly, and he felt her walls tighten and clench around his single finger. Adding another one, he listened to see if Hermione was in any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he spread his fingers inside her, and her moans became so high he thought the dogs would hear her.

”Please! Please just put it in me!” Hermione pleaded, her face hot with arousal, and it felt as though the sheets on the bed were too hot to lay on. Draco gave his signature shit-eating smirk. “Put what in you?” Hermione’s face burned even more with anger and her brow furrowed with fierce pique. “Your cock! Put your cock in me right now, or I swear I’ll hex yo—“

Her threat was cut short as she could feel his hands reach for her bra, as he now sat back up. He ripped them of, throwing them across the edge of the room and attacked her lips yet again, his tongue dancing along with hers. His right hand squeezed one of her breasts and tightened around her rosy nipple. She gasped, making a strange, incomprehensible noise she never thought she could make.

His other hand was fumbling at his trousers, opening the flyer and he sighed in content as his aching cock flew out, the pain suddenly going away. Hermione stared at it in wonder, seeing how red the plump head was and gulped. It looked so very, very large. And she thought her cunt was so very, very small. 

But her thoughts were interrupted as she felt Draco’s hands grip at her hips like a vice, dragging her down. She instinctively spread her legs around his torso, latching onto his hips. His weight on top of her kept her unmoving anyway. 

“This will hurt but only for a moment,” he explained, kissing her softly and reassuringly. “You can hold onto me if you need to, scratch even.” At his words, Hermione wrapped her arms around his entire body, her hands resting on his back.

His hips rolled forwards like waves into her, and she gasped. He was stretching her out so much, but it felt like she couldn’t even feel it. She felt her fingernails dig into Draco’s back, feeling bad as she did so, but Draco did not seem to mind. In fact, he was so concentrated on how tight her pink cunt was, he didn’t seem to notice at all.

As Draco began to pick up a steady rhythm, she groaned into the corner of his neck.

Draco hissed as he pushed deeper inside her with each level thrust. She was too tight—with her walls fluttering around him, muscles contracting and flexing around him. This wasn’t going to last long, he knew.

Determined to give her an orgasm, his hands lay resolutely on her waist, keeping her in place as he began to pound into her. The scent of her slick heat was driving him absolutely insane, and he began to stimulate her clit as well as try and find her g-spot.

Hermione’s screams of pleasure were trying to be muffled by stuffing half her face in a pillow, but it proved to be rather  ineffective. Her back was arched and her thighs were beginning to quiver as all they could hear were the loud slaps of skin connecting with each other.

Hermione gasped as she could feel an electric current flow through her pussy. A giant explosion radiating from her belly button to her clitoris. Tears pricked her eyes as she began to experience pure euphoria. “Oh Gods!” 

Draco looked like he wasn’t going to last long, either. His face was hot and sweaty, and his blonde hair was a mess, strands of hair drooping apart. He continued to push in and out of her until he could feel his own orgasm building up. He took her thighs and spread them as far as he could, watching her pink folds stretch as he did so. Leaning in, he gave Hermione one last kiss through loud moans.

He gave way quickly, his orgasm filling her up. He gasped, as he looked down at Hermione. Her face was one of shock. He pulled out and began to search the drawer for his wand. While laying there, Hermione could feel some cum trickle down her thigh.

Draco got his wand, and cast a quick cleaning spell on both of them. He pecked her on the lips cheekily again. “Hope you enjoyed that.” He said, and pulled his trousers back up and walked away, into his study.

Hermione could feel her face burn up with shame. She just defiled herself with Malfoy. The start of a _baby_ was actually inside her right now. She could feel herself crying with anxiety, joy and disgust at the same time. She had a new life, inside her right now. And she’ll be damned, she was going to raise this child to be just like her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a nuna baby! And smut, even if it wasn’t very loving. Let me know what you guys think of it. Reviews, comments, kudos and bookmarks mean the absolute world to me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione deals with the side effects of pregnancy and tries to come to grips with Draco’s behavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading, or if your new checking this fic out!
> 
> I have also just posted a new fic, which is Snamione time travel...if you want to check that out!

Hermione was just about fed up with waking up and feeling sick every time she got out of bed.

Her and Draco, over the past six weeks have kept trying for a child. It wasn’t exactly what Hermione would’ve hoped for in bed. It was stiff, forced, and honestly made Hermione feel used like a ragdoll. In the back of Hermione’s mind, she wished for romantic love-making, but that dream was now sort of crushed and exploded into a million tiny pieces.

Always, after they had sex, Draco pulled his trousers back up, zipped himself up and left Hermione in the bed, naked between the sheets. It was unemotional, unloving and made her feel like a cheap whore.

Through their trying consummation, Lucius has talked to her a few times about Narcissa’s pregnancy, which made Hermione feel even worse when he burst into tears and started whining about their divorce. 

It had been at least 6 weeks, and it was now the start of the summer. It was also nearing Draco’s birthday (not that Hermione cared all that much). Hermione loved the summer. 

She loved the way the sun tanned her skin to a golden brown. She loved the way her curly hair sprung up in the heat. She loved the way she could swim in the pool of the Manor, and apricate in the sun, soaking up the heat. She loved the summer outfits, and the short skirts she could wear and make Draco stare in awe and _wish_ he was more loving to her.

But, unfortunately this summer was going to be a rough one because of her damned morning sickness. 

She would wake up, and taste something metallic on her tongue, and that was the sign that she needed to go to the bathroom as soon as possible. Then, she would let it all out in the toilet.

That, was exactly what she was doing this morning, on Draco’s birthday.

She was hurling in the toilet, and when she wiped her mouth, she looked at herself in the mirror and saw the darkest circles under her eyes. The sickness had certainly not helped her sleep. Ever night, she would lay down with her stomach cramping. She had told Draco a few times, and he had got one of the house-elves to get a remedy for her, and it soothes it for a bit, but never stopped it.

”Oh, throwing up again, are you?” Draco murmured, his figure hanging around in the doorway with a disgusted look on his face.

Hermione’s eyebrows creased in intense anger. “You did this to me! You knocked me up! So you should stop complaining and fucking help me, you useless _ferret_!”

Oh, and she had mood swings.

Draco only stared back at her with a bored expression (used to her outbursts of anger) and called for a house-elf. “Mopsy!” The trembling house-elf immediately popped right next to him. “Go and get Granger a remedy for her sickness—“

Just before he was about to finish his sentence, Hermione was gripping the basin so hard that she thought the delicate marble would crack. _“You go get it yourself, you lazy—“_

Draco shot a glare at her, but eventually sent the house-elf away. “Fine.” He gritted through his teeth, and stomped away downstairs to what Hermione assumed was the kitchen. 

She sighed deeply and turned on the tap to splash cold water on her face. 

There truly was something about Draco’s face that made him so punchable. 

A few minutes later, the ferret came back with a steaming mug and set it on the side of the sink. “Careful, Granger, it’s hot.” He sneered. She scoffed, as she sniffed the drink he gave her. As much as she believed that Draco was all bark and no bite, she was always suspicious that he would drug her or something.

It did not smell different, and she could not detect a potion’s aura. It only smelt like ginger tea. She _loved_ ginger tea. Did Draco know this? She narrowed her eyes at him. Did he enter her mind without her knowing?

Draco only narrowed his eyes back, and he looked like he was trying to shield his eyes from sunlight. “What?” His voice was like steel, hard. 

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes, taking a sip of the tea. She could see Draco scoff in disbelief and leave the room. “What a great birthday this will be.” Hermione bared her teeth. “You have no idea what I’m going through right now, so stop your incompetent whining right now or I’ll hex you into oblivion.”

Draco frowned even harder at her. But he stayed silent and walked away. Hermione get feel her eyes watering again. _God damn it! Why did she have to be so emotional now?_

After a few hours of drinking the tea and sleeping peacefully, she got up and went down to get breakfast. Mid-way down the stairs, Mopsy came to her with a plate in her knobby hands.

”Mopsy made mistress a breakfast! Mopsy knows that mistress is not feeling very well, and Mopsy knows how she feels...” Hermione smiled gratefully at the toast and jam that Mopsy had given her. “Thank you, Mopsy.” Mopsy glowed at her praise and meekly bowed before popping off somewhere else. 

When Hermione got into the kitchen, she saw Draco leaning on the table with a cup of tea grasped in his hand. Draco scowled when he saw her food. “Where did you get that?” He demanded. Hermione wandlessly _accio’d_ some cutlery to her table and set the plate down. “From Mopsy.” She replied curtly.

Draco’s scowl deepened even further, but again, stayed silent. 

Breakfast, or, more like brunch was very awkward. When Hermione did not speak to him after a while and just ate silently, Draco angrily pushed himself out of his chair and stormed out of the kitchen. Hermione only blinked in his direction, before returning her attention to her breakfast.

When she finished, she paced the halls impatiently. Luckily, Emma came bounding up to her and happily licked her. “To you need a walk?” Emma barked at that and Hermione chuckled. “Alright, I’ll get your leash.” And getting up, Emma whined and Hermione patted her head, and her tail wagged with mirth.

As she went across the entrance hall, one of the portraits snarled at her. “Filthy mudblood, tainting this household,” When Hermione turned around, she saw an elderly-looking man with pale skin, grey eyes and an _a la souvarov_ mustache. Beneath the portrait, a plaque read _**‘Abraxas Malfoy’.**_

The portrait sneered at her as she stared defiantly at her. “Pervicacious little minx, aren’t you? Copulating with the scion of the Malfoy family, like the mudblood disgrace you are.” Hermione could feel her skin crawl at his harsh wording. _“You should feel honoured to even look at me!”_

Some of the other portraits began to wake up, too. The hall echoed with screams and shouts of _‘disgrace! whore! mudblood! broodmare!’_

Hermione could feel her face began heat up with shame. She had never been harassed like this, not even by Draco or at school. 

And as if on cue, Lucius came running down the stairs and flicked his wand to the portraits, and the curtains closed on all of them, and all they could was angry muffled voices. Abraxas, however, did not quieten down. _“Why are you helping the mudblood, Lucius? Do you realise the dirt you are rubbing into this family line?”_

Lucius frowned and flicked his wand again. “ _Silencio!”_ And, immediately the hall fell into silence. They both stared at Abraxas’ covered portrait for a moment. Lucius cleared his throat and looked at Hermione. 

“Sorry about my father, he always was...” he mumbled off. “Vitriolic.” Lucius sighed at ran his hand through his hair. As he walked away, Hermione caught up with him and tapped his shoulder. “Actually, I was going to ask where I could find a leash for Emma.” Lucius looked at her with furrowed brows. “Why—?” Hermione put a finger to his mouth to keep him quiet while she explained. 

“I’m taking her on a walk, she seems to be very lonely and energetic.” Lucius’ lips thinned and his eyes only lay on her finger. He leaned away. “Of course,” he walked away, his hand gesturing to follow him. Hermione did.

He opened a small compartment under the stairs. Hermione saw a black leash lined with silver. She smiled at him, and his face seemed to contort strangely. “Thanks,” she grinned. “For that, and, um-the portraits.” He chuckled, his voice husky. “That’s quite alright. Unfortunately you will have to get used to it, though.” 

As she walked towards Emma, who was sitting on the bottom of the stairs, Lucius grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry for all this,” he murmured. “No woman deserves to be forcefully impregnated like this, I—“ Hermione only stared back up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. She smiled with happiness at his honesty. Lucius looked at her intently.

”You—you have Narcissa’s smile.” Hermione’s smile quickly faded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you through that.” Lucius only gulped loudly. He waved her off politely. She turned around, feeling strangely sad. She didn’t mean to put Lucius through anymore pain. She had already snuck through his diary. She felt horrible.

The leash clicked around Emma’s collar, and as she walked out of the door that lead out to the garden, Emma trotted behind her. The garden always gave off the best scents, and the smell of dandelions and roses surrounded Hermione’s senses. Following the path around the garden and into the woods far away, she happily trotted. Walking around with nature at her fingertips felt like freedom. At the moment, the thing that was mostly on her mind right now.

That was, until Draco came bounding up to her. She whipped around, her hair slicing through the air. “What do you want?” She spat. Draco put his hands up in surrender. “One of the horses has given birth!” He exclaimed. Hermione only got more confused. “And this matters to me because...?” 

Draco’s eyes glinted with frustration. “I thought you liked horses?” Hermione sighed loudly. “Alright, fine.” She walked beside him, Emma barking in confusion. “Not now Emma, Draco wants me to see something for a moment...” 

As they neared the stable, Hermione leaned over the door. She gasped in surprise.

One of the beautiful Akhal Teke mares was laying down, lovingly coddling a newborn foal. 

“Isn’t he lovely?” Draco murmured to her. Hermione nodded. The foal was brown and had a dark mane and legs. “It doesn’t really look like the mother, though.” Draco then gestured to a colt in the other cabin. He was dark and lithe. “That’s Prince,” And at hearing his name, the horse gave a soft snort. “He’s an Arabian.” 

“What an amazing mix,” Hermione breathed. They stayed in silence before Hermione began to think as to why Draco _really_ made her come over. “Did you make me come over because it’s a baby thats been born?”

She could sense the air suddenly grew thick with tension. Draco breathed outward. “I just felt that you needed to relax about it,” Hermione’s eyes went as sharp as an eagles. “I mean—the mother is happy about it. She now has a beautiful child.” Hermione felt her face form into an expression of disbelief. “Yes, well, she’s not being forced into spending the rest of her life with her school bully is she?”

Draco’s jaw visibly clenched.

”Listen, I’m sorry, alright?” It sounded forced. “But we’re going to have to get along, and then this will be so much easier.” Draco was now looking straight at her. “I’ll be a good husband, and I’ll take care of you, and you can be a good mother by not drinking alcohol and stuff like that.”

Hermione’s head tilted as she sent him an accusing glare. “What? Do you not think I notice how much you’re sucking the life out of the wine cellar?” Draco then placed his hands on her shoulders. “I understand that your depressed with this new life, but _please_ don’t drive your emotions into the baby. That’s incredibly irresponsible.”

When he placed his hands on her stomach, Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. “This,” he spoke gently. “Will be our child. I want the best for it.”

Hermione smiled faintly. “Me too.”

They were both interrupted by Emma whining and jumping up on Hermione’s legs. Hermione chuckled and walked away from Draco. “Alright, Alright, I’ll walk you now.” As she walked away, Draco was beside her in the same pace.

”What are you doing?” She asked. Draco’s face was in the beam of the sunlight for a moment, illuminating his pale face. “Walking the dog with you, _like a good husband._ ”

Hermione frowned for a moment but then shrugged her shoulders. As they trekked through the woods, in the twisting path, the leaves crinkled beneath Hermione’s sandals. Hermione cleared her throat. “Why are you always like this?” Draco looked at her with a slight frown. “You always treat me like shit, and then you apologise in some way, and then I forgive you, and then you treat me like shit again.” 

Draco’s eyes lowered, and all Hermione could see were his pale eyelashes. His fists were clenched tightly. “Will it always be like that? Were you taught to be like that? Cruel and manipulating?” Draco’s mouth twitched, and for a moment, that was the only response Hermione got.

But then, his velvety voice broke the silence. “I was taught to be cautious,” His voice was quiet. “I never wanted to be like this, but in the war, it was almost compulsory.”

He looked at Hermione, his eyes wide with such emotion, it caught her off guard. “I will try and change, it’s hard to change what your taught by your parents.”

Hermione breathed through her nose, her hand brushed against his. “Will you truly try and change?” 

Draco looked at her with cold sadness. “For you? Anything.”

 

 

* * *

 

When they went home, they sat on the bed and talked seriously about how they would deal with this newfound difficult challenge. Hermione found that it turned out to be more emotional than she wanted. To lighten the mood, Draco asked for Hermione to teach him the Patronus Charm that she promised to him a while ago. 

“I’m not an expert, since Harry was the one that taught me, but I’ll try my best.” She said humbly, and Draco only scoffed. He was holding his wand tightly. Hermione touched his arm. “Relax. You can’t be so tense.”

Draco instantly relaxed, his shoulders lowering. “Now, I want you to think of your happiest memory. If you feel happy instantly thinking about it, concentrate on that and then say ‘Expecto Patronum’,” she tried to explain it as simply as she could.

Draco closed his eyes, clearly trying to find a memory until he opened his eyes again, and they were full of determination. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” He whispered, for he didn’t want to wake up his father. A faint, white glow emitted from the tip of his wand. She could see the disappointment in his face.

”That’s quite alright, Harry and I had the same thing,” His disappointment slightly faded. “You’ve got to think of a happier memory.” Draco nodded and after a few moments, he whispered the words again.

Slowly, the glow that he had before turned into a large wisp of white magic, like ribbons twisting through the air. The figure of a white dragon flew around the room, lighting it up, before disappearing through the open window. Hermione and Draco both ran up to the window, looking out of it. They could see the glowing white dragon flying through the garden for a few moments before dissolving into thin air. Draco breathed out.

”Amazing,” 

Hermione smiled at him and patted him awkwardly on the back. “Well done.” After a few moments of happy silence, she spoke up quietly. “What did you think of?”

Draco blinked slowly a few times. “The child,” Hermione’s eyes widened. “The what?” She whispered under her breath.

”The child.” He repeated. “I feel happy knowing that I will have kept the family line going. I do truly want to be a father.” Hermione only stared into the night sky. She felt her eyes water.

”I’m too young to be a mother, I—“ She felt the comforting hand of Draco’s entwine with hers. “I’m not ready for this. I want my mum. I want my dad...” she choked out, her chest heaving with sobs as she felt herself be hugged by Draco.

His hand patted her back and his quiet soothing words let her tears fall further. All she could see was the blurry picture of the bedroom she was forcefully fucked in. All she could see was the iridescent light that surrounded her tears. And then the world went black as she felt herself fall asleep onto Draco’s shoulder, in his arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, isn’t this just angsty? I also apologise if the descriptions of pregnancy are not accurate, for I am only an older teenager, I have no experience with such thing.
> 
> As always, kudos, comments and reviews help me update!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very, very sorry for the incredibly long update! Over the summer, I had an accident and had to go to surgery and couldn’t really type with my hand...
> 
> I do hope you all understand, and enjoy the chapter!

_With love and regards, Hermione _

The ink from the tip of Hermione’s albino peacock feather quill splattered across the last sentence as Hermione’s wrist suddenly convulsed, breaking the quill in half as she tip so. Hermione gasped as she shot a worried glance at her stomach.

Now, she was considerably larger (though she thought she was in a healthy shape), and her baby bump was starting to get in the way of the dinner table and her desk when she sat. Sleeping was a tiring task, too. Fidgeting around all night in cold sweat from worrying about the birth, she also usually woke Draco in the process, thus creating a grumpy husband in the morning.

Though the usual bitterness between the two of them was still very much there, because of the baby, the two had slowly become more helpful towards another.

So, she called for him in help.

For a few moments, Hermione could hear the thumps of Draco’s footsteps (she could tell who’s footsteps it belonged to, it shook the damn house) and the door was then bashed open, with a panting and worried Draco standing in the doorway, staring up at her. 

“What is it? Are you hurt?” Draco was already becoming a protective husband, even if their relationship was the most complicated thing Hermione had ever experienced. He bounded up to her, leaning over her shoulder, and brushed a stray hair from her cheek softly.

”Are you alright?” Draco’s voice quietened down a little, as if he was talking to a very small, afraid child.

Hermione only raised an eyebrow and formed a curiously smug smirk. “Nothing. It’s just, I thought I felt a kick while I was writing to Luna.” She gestured to her now ruined letter.

Then, again, as she leaned towards the letter to seal it inside the envelope, she felt a sharp kick just beside her belly button. 

“There it is again!” Draco immediately put both his hands on Hermione’s stomach, waiting for it to happen again. 

They stayed in silence for a few moments, waiting for another kick. Hermione could only see Draco staring at her stomach with a dreamy expression in his eyes. Then, it happened again. Only, it was a lot softer, as if it was shy to interfere with something.

 _”Wow,”_ Draco’s eyes were wide as saucers. Hermione giggled, feeling strangely overjoyed. “Hi, baby...” he cooed at her bump. Hermione scoffed at his parental behaviour. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Kicking your mother like that isn’t very nice...”

Hermione gave her sealed letter to her owl, who gave her a happy tweet and flew out of the window with it in it’s beak.

”I don’t really think it can hear you, Malfoy...”

 _”Shh!”_ Draco hissed at her with an annoyed expression on his face, and went back to talking to her unborn baby.

She felt happy that Draco wanted this child, even though she most definitely did _not_. 

He left her stomach alone and stopped talking to it after a few long minutes. Draco was now rigidly upright. Hermione stared back at him with a questioning look clouding her face. “Is something the matter?”

Draco’s jaw clenched tightly. “I need to know if it’s a boy.” Hermione could feel disappointment rise inside of her. _Of course he wanted to know! It was the only thing he cared about, wasn’t it? A reliable heir to continue the family line._

Hermione didn’t reply, and rose from her chair to go to the kitchen. There was an unmistakable tense atmosphere between them. Draco bit his lip nervously, clearly rethinking his word choice. 

“I’m fine if it’s a girl, though,” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “But—I _do_ need a male heir.” 

“Which means that we’ll have to do this all over again.” Hermione felt like she read his thoughts, for he stayed silent, and she could almost see the guilty expression on his face through the back of her head. 

She prayed to Merlin that it was a boy.

As she went down the stairs, a lone book lay on the countertop in the lounge area untouched. Curiosity overtook her senses, and she changed her direction from the kitchen to the black leather sofa. Sitting down on the plush, rich material, she took the book into her hands and brushed the dust off of the cover. She scoffed at herself. Of course.

 _’Reliable ways to raise a healthy child.’_ It read, in fancy font writing. She slammed the book down onto the counter, relishing in the way the book sounded torn. It was only like Draco to be so afraid of his own parental skills, that he had to read a book about childcare that was at least five centuries older than him. 

The commotion she made seemed to wake some portraits up in the main hall. Hermione grimaced as she saw the stony grey eyes of Abraxas Malfoy flicker open and sharpen fiercely once they landed on her. 

A frown rugged at the portrait’s mouth, but he kept his mouth shut, and his jaw clenched tightly.

A soft, high-pitched park snapped her from her glaring contest with the portrait, and turned her gaze to an adoring puppy (Emma, Hermione guessed by the pink tint of the canine’s collar) that patted happily at her attention and rested onto Hermione’s large stomach. Her hand softly brushed across the head of Emma, who’s tail wagged at the contact.

Before Hermione could feel happy in her place for once, _because of course she couldn’t take a break_ , the portrait snarled at her.

”Taking care of the child I hope, mudblood?” Hermione’s took a deep, shaky breath in, forcing herself to calm down. “And pleasing your _husband_ , I suppose?”

Hermione turned around, her eyes narrowed with annoyance and covered by a dark look. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business.” The portrait growled at her, and some of the other paintings shot her a sharp look across the hall.

_“Any of my business? I happen to be his grandfather, you silly little chit—”_

_”Silencio!”_

When Hermione turned to see the source of the spellcaster, she expected to see Lucius, instead, Draco stood in his place, his face marked with a deep scowl. As he turned around, and pointed his wand to the other portraits as some sort of threat, they all backed down at seeing Abraxas’ mouth nearly sewn shut.

Hermione frowned at his sudden appearance, and turned back to the puppy that made her happy in the even the dullest of places, specifically when Draco suddenly appeared.

Draco seemed to notice her cold shoulder, and to her disappointment, he sat down next to her, his posture looking nervous. “About what I said, Granger,” he began, and his soft tone already filled her mouth with the taste of bile. “I don’t take it back.” 

She could feel her face tugging at an attempt to sneer. _Just fantastic._

“But if it is a girl, I don’t mind having a daughter.” The room was filled with deafening silence, and Hermione saw Draco shoot multiple glances at her to see her reaction. She didn’t give him any, only a small clench of her fists showed that she hated his choice of wording.

“Of course you don’t, but I do.” She snarled at him, before patting Emma on the head two. Draco gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed for a moment before he blinked, and looked at Hermione with burning sincerity. 

Emma put her head onto Hermione’s belly, and has she hissed in pain at another hard kick from the baby, the dog protectively began licking her stomach, her warm, furry body cuddling around it.

 

* * *

 

 

The toaster quickly shot up with the surge of electricity that came through Hermione’s wand, the toast came up, cooked and singed slightly, and Hermione took it gratefully and began to spread butter all over it, her mouth watering at the sight of the butter melting.

Then, just about when her brunch was finished, she felt the familiar tug of two arms wrap around her waist, and felt the chin of her husband lay on her shoulder. “Hungry, huh?” He breathed into her neck hotly. Hermione gulped slowly; she knew _exactly_ what Draco wanted.

Even though they had clearly made a child and had no need to try and conceive one, Draco was still a man, and needed certain _needs_ that only Hermione could tame. And with them being bound, Draco could not exactly dance up to some other lady and use her instead. Oh no, it was almost like the ministry was mocking their relationship, forcing them into boundaries they couldn’t control.

She held in a breath when she felt Draco undo her snakeskin belt, and pull her skinny jeans down. As her husband cupped her cheeks with a large palm, Hermione tried to focus on something else. Her eyes caught back to her toast and she groaned in annoyance when she felt his hands spread her legs wider and when he suddenly pushed through her folds. 

She then knew that her brunch was ruined, and she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

Draco began to roughly move through her, retracting himself and slamming himself back in. Hermione shut her eyes tightly, starting to count for when she thought Draco would finish. Her bets were on around a minute.

Honestly, it was close enough. When Draco was desperate he never lasted long, and he always muttered obscenities into the crook of her neck, saying he loved her ‘more tender breasts’, to which Hermione only wrinkled her nose in disgust and tried to put it behind her.

She gasped as he filled her, his seed burning like molten inside of her walls. 

He then tucked himself back into his trousers, kissed her on the cheek and wished her a happy lunch, to then walk out of the kitchen to what Hermione thought was work. 

She scowled as she felt her clitoris still pulse with arousal. He hadn’t even bothered to give her an orgasm. Didn’t even touch her. As much as she (usually) enjoyed sex with her husband, she knew he was a selfish lover, and only stopped when he was satisfied.

She awkwardly shuffled back to her brunch, with his come still leaking out of her, and pulled her jeans up, hoping it wouldn’t look like she had an intense accident.

She looked back at her toast, which still looked delicious, but she didn’t feel hungry now at all.

Clicking her fingers, and watching as a meek looking house-elf immediately popped beside her, she told the creature to take the toast up to Lucius. 

Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t care.

She felt confused when it came to Draco’s father. Nowadays, Lucius was quiet. Perhaps, afraid of hurting the child (despite Hermione’s protests that he wouldn’t), but she was never really sure. He always, after her drank his fair share of alcohol, seemed to have a strange dazed look in his eyes.

Hermione always felt that was because he was intoxicated, but now she felt as if he was being possessed under dark magic, even though she knew that that was rubbish.

With a huff, and an unsatisfied body, she stormed into the bathroom that was just beside the kitchen. When she got in, she locked the door and sat down on toilet, waiting for herself to finish.

She did her business, as usual, flushed the toilet, and pulled her pants back up. She wondered, she’d read somewhere in a muggle magazine (when she still lived with her parents, the thought instantly made her depressed) about something called UTI’s. She hadn’t looked too far into it, but she knew it had something to do with sex. 

She shrugged it off eventually after contemplating it while fixing her makeup in the mirror. When she felt that her hair was back in place, she thought about it. Besides, the magical healers couldn’t _not_  heal anything. Could they?

Just as she was about to head out of the door, she heard wings fluttering just beside her. Turning around, she was delighted to see that her owl had perched on the brim of her window, with a letter clutched in-between it's dark beak.

She thanked the owl with a small nod (and with that, it flew away) and took the letter in her hands, happy to see it had Harry’s signature scruffy handwriting on the front of the envelope. She opened it eagerly, not caring about the mess she was making as the shreds of paper fell to the white marble floor.

It read:

_’To Hermione,_

_I read what you said in your last letter. I wholeheartedly agree with what you said, we should definitely have a meet up with everyone we knew from school! I, myself, is rather curious as to how Ron is holding up with Hannah Abbott..._

_I hope you are well, and Malfoy is treating you alright_ (Hermione snorted) _. Me and Daphne haven’t really done much at all...we only got married two months ago in August, and the Ministry is already chasing us up._

_Had to make the excuse that we have done our thing, but nothing happened with her. Now their forcing her to stuff fertility potions down her throat. It’s honestly sick!_

_Anyway, I hope to see you soon and have a reply!_

_— Harry  :)’_

 

Hermione smiled at the badly drawn smiley face. That was just _so_ Harry. With the letter still in her hand, she eagerly reached for the doorknob.

Her fingers were already itching to reply to him, and for the rare time in her marriage, she felt so happy that her posture was suddenly lifted; and she didn’t even think that she was with a child.

 

* * *

  

_”I’m not going to the bloody healers!”_

A screech echoed across the grand ballroom, and Draco (in his work suit) was dragging his furious pregnant wife across to the floo.

”Let go of me!— _you can’t make me go!_ I’ll call—I’ll call—”

Draco suddenly leaned into her, his face marked with a deep scowl and fiery ocean blue eyes. “What are you going do to, Granger? _Who are you going to call?_ ” He taunted loudly, his hand gripping her arm like a vice.

Hermione only stared back angrily at her husband, not knowing what to say. For once, the brightest witch of her age did not have a smart reply to a taunt.

”That’s what I thought.” Draco huffed through his now flared nostrils, turning towards the floo to apparate her with him. He turned towards her again while walking to the fireplace.

”I highly suggest you don’t fight me, Granger.” Hermione snorted at the use of her surname. Surely they could call each other by their first names by now?

”Or what, Malfoy? You’ll fight me with your pureblood views? Because I’m used to it by now.” She spat out, staring defiantly at her blonde husband. Draco snarled at her, so ferociously that it made Hermione step back a few feet.

”Don’t you dare bring my beliefs into this, you—” He suddenly reeled back with a hiss of pain, leaving Hermione to look at her arm (with now had a raw pink mark where his hand had gripped her).

She then glanced at him in confusion to see Draco staring at his ring, that was now glowing as if it had been heated up in lava. He shook it about with a groan of pain. “ _Shit..._ ” she could hear him quietly mutter under his breath.

Her brain suddenly clicked. That must have been the charm put around the rings that they got. So—if they got too close to physically hurting each other, it hurt them? Lucius has said to them that some couples would cause trouble, so precautions will be made—but they were _hardly_ physically fighting.

She gulped, feeling a little strange, not knowing what to do. Should she scold him about losing his temper?—or should she comfort him?

She had no need to think about her possible options, for Draco clearly got over the ring and stormed to the fireplace, not dragging Hermione, but glaring at her to follow him. But, beneath that furious glare, Hermione could see the faint layer of caution and fear clouding his Berlin blue eyes.

She followed closely on his heels, stepping into the fireplace, she shot Draco a sympathetic look, hoping he would feel better. Her husband, in return faintly smiled, but still winced at his slightly burned finger in pain. He then held her hand, and dragged her through the apparition system.

When she felt the ground grace along her feet, she gasped in pain, gripping her stomach tightly. 

Draco immediately whipped around, his eyes wide with worry. He helped her up. “Are you alright, are you hurt?” He demanded.

Hermione panted, holding onto him. “We probably shouldn’t apparate when I’m pregnant, next time...”

Draco chuckled breathlessly, feeling better now that he knew that Hermione was okay. “Duly noted.”

They got into the healer’s familiar cottage, it still being overgrown and strangely placed in a field. This time, Hermione could smell salt in the air, before seeing the cold blue sea crashing against the cliffs just ahead of them. The house was warm, and Hermione could hear the fire crackling inside, and felt welcome as her lace-up sandals pressed against the mahogany wood floor.

The short and elderly Asian healer turned towards them, a smile gracing her features. “Ah—you’re back! It’s been so long since I last saw you two, how long has it been—?”

”It’s been 6 months.” Draco states bluntly, and Hermione winced, expecting the elderly woman to snap at him, but her smile only grew inches wider.

”Oh, Of course, how time flies nowadays...” she went off muttering to herself, then looking up at Hermione. “Six months? Then I presume you are here to scan your baby?” Hermione nodded slowly.

Draco cut in, again. “And the gender.” He added.

The healer nodded, a knowing smirk on her face. “Well, come on the then, Mrs Malfoy.” Hermione grimaced. She was _never_ going to get used to her new surname.

As she followed Osumi, she could see a strange lab, with all sorts of potions gibbing and cauldrons hissing. It highly reminded her of a mix of her potions classroom and a muggle hospital. She then saw a white, muggle hospital-looking bed.

She shot a nervous glance at Draco, who gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

She reluctantly sat onto the bed, and laid on it, blinking a little when she saw a bright light above her. She felt like she was at a visit to the dentists or something.

She then felt a rubber hand softly feel her stomach through her clothes. “I’m going to need to roll your shirt up, is that alright?” Hermione gulped, but nodded nonetheless.

When she felt the cold air hit her stomach she frowned. Couldn’t they make this room a little warmer? 

Then, with a flick of the healers wand (which Hermione noticed, was one of willow wood) the bed was moved slightly upright, so Hermione wasn’t looking directly into the light, and could see what was going on with her stomach.

”At six months,” the healer began, putting her hair up, and then putting a cap on which, to Hermione’s amusement, looked a lot like a shower cap. “The baby now can hear, and it’s ears have developed. It’s lungs are still not fully mature, _so you must be careful._ ” The healer tutted disapprovingly at her jeans. “Next time, wear tracksuit-style bottoms, or just skinny leggings.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, but still frowned. She _loved_ those jeans. 

The healer began to inspect her strangely, in a way that Hermione didn’t really understand. “You will need plenty of rest between now and before labour. Make sure you go to sleep early at night.”  Hermione nodded, again, not really knowing what else to do.

The healer turned away, and reached for something, and for a moment, Hermione could only hear the faint clattering of instruments together, before she realised that she was only getting her wand. “This  may feel slightly strange.”

Hermione suddenly felt scared, and shot up, facing the healer dead in the eye. “Will it hurt?” She asked, well, more like-demanded.

Osumi shook her head and smiled kindly. “It will only be a light numbing sensation.”

With a flick of her wand, the lights dimmed, and Hermione gulped, looking at Draco, who looked equally worried.

And with that, the elderly healer placed her white wand onto Hermione’s stomach, and Hermione braved herself for something strange to happen to her. _For goodness sake, this was magic! Anything could happen as far she was aware!_

_“Ostende puer erat arida...”_

The chants were strangely calming, and soon enough, Hermione could feel a strange feeling flowing through her stomach, like it was jelly, and she could suddenly not feel anything anymore.

To her amazement, her stomach began to glow in the dark, the outline of a small baby began to shine inside her, and she could see it all curled up, clutching its fingers and shutting its eyes tightly. Hermione felt a sharp feeling of pride dwell inside her, and as she looked at Draco, he looked equally happy.

This was her child. And, _Merlin_ —it looked absolutely beautiful to her.

The healer smiled beside her. “It is a healthy child.” She confirmed. Draco looked up from looking at her stomach, his smile radiant against the faint glow bouncing across his face. Osumi nodded in understand, withdrawing her wand (and with it, the glow of her child, gone) and holding a bubbling flask in return.

Hermione looked at the potion. “What is that?” She indicated to it with a nod of her head. Osumi chuckled at her scared tone. “It is not the tastiest thing in the world—but it will reveal your child’s gender.” Hermione looked at Draco, who had a calculating look in his eyes.

She knew this was important to him. If it was a boy, he would have his precious heir, but if it wasn’t, she would have to ty again to have another boy and go through _another_ pregnancy. And like hell she was doing that.

”What’s in it?” She asked. Osumi smiled again, and listed the ingredients of by heart.

”The feather of an occamy, all the way from India, the crushed wing of a Chinese dragonfly—a animal that represents fertility in their culture, and a dash of dittany for the child to grow healthily.” 

She took the flask with deft fingers after the confirmation of the ingredients, and nervously twitched against the cold glass, and gulped the thick liquid down her throat. It wasn’t really all that unpleasant. It tasted like a mix of dark chocolate and red wine. A strange mix, but not disgusting.

She could see her stomach light up again, but she could also see the liquid pass through her body, and when it reached her stomach, a liquified purple colour radiated around her, before slowly turning into a dark, blood red. 

She was slightly confused, but very tense. She gripped the side of the bed, waiting for an answer.

And she got one. As soon as she began thinking of her options, the red turned into a dark pink, and then into a light pink, leaving the room looking like some princess palace.

Draco’s jaw clenched, and Hermione worriedly looked between him and the healer. Osumi smiled and turned the lights back on with a flick of her wand, the pink disappearing as the room lit up. The healer clasped her hands together.

”Congratulations, Mrs and Mr Malfoy, you are going to have a beautiful baby girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me for updates on my tumblr: @star-spangler!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I have to apologise to my very patient readers. This chapter took so long to make because of projects, exams, hoards of homework...etc...
> 
> Unfortunately I will probably not update every week, if I am being realistic. I always try and find time to write, and this Fanfiction is far from over, but I find it hard to fit into my extremely busy life. I hope you all understand and enjoy this chapter.

The ensuing silence was deafening.

With a stiff look on his face, Draco instantly turned around and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a slam.

Hermione only stared back at him in fury. _How dare he? He said he would be a good husband, he wouldn’t mind a daughter—and now he’s having another hissy fit?_

The room was so silent that Hermione could even hear hear the soft clink that the healers wand made as she placed it on the desk beside her. The elderly woman cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

”It is not unusual that they walk out like that.” The healer softly spoke, gently placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder reassuringly. 

“Of course.” Hermione spoke, her voice as hard as steel. She grimaced as the hand left her shoulder cautiously.

”I’m telling you now, when the child is born he’ll change his mind about everything,” the healer tutted and shook her head, pulling Hermione’s shirt back down and beginning to pack away her stuff. “They always do.”

“Then why does it even matter?” Hermione snapped, folding her arms defensively. “It’s his child all the same, he should at least care about _her_!”

The healer looked back at Hermione, her black eyes shining with sympathy. “Bloodline is very important to the Malfoy’s, I’m sure you know that, correct?” Hermione nodded. “A male heir must be born to ensure the line continues, unfortunately they have not changed since the old times, as well as many other pureblood families.”

Hermione could feel her lip curling upwards, and her chin going tense as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment, but she held herself with strength.

”But—what about the birth? What will happen to me _then_?” Her voice shook, as much as she despised it being so. 

The healer looked up. “Well, when your water breaks, I will be called by your husband and I will assist you through the birth as best I can.”

Hermione gulped, annoyed that she hadn’t answered her question. “Yes, but—will it hurt?”

Osumi shook her head slowly, looking down at her utensils as she packed them away. “No, perhaps strange, but not painful. I will give you a painless potion, as most private births are like that.” Hermione gulped. What about the people who could not afford that treatment? She distantly thought of Ron and his wife, and shivered with remorse.

”But, I cannot day anything as accurately as I wish; for I have not given birth under such circumstances.” Hermione gulped.

The healer put a hand comfortingly onto her bulging stomach. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure of that.” Hermione smiled, even though her skin felt pulled at the reaction, like her body was allergic to her own happiness.

The healer then helped Hermione onto her feet, with a grunt, and she began to slowly walk to the area which her and Draco apparated from. She was not particularly skilled in apparition when it came to long distances (however, she liked to apparate from short distances, like shops, from time to time) even though her technique was excellent and she always ended up where she needed to be.

But, the healer stopped her with a small grip on her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks. Hermione looked over her shoulder in confusion. The healer smiled and then waddled over to her desk, then came back to her with some powder in her hand.

”I would advise you not to apparate from now on, it upsets the baby’s sleep usually,” Hermione raised her eyebrows comically. Perhaps that was why the baby was kicking the life out of her...

She looked at her stomach sadly and stroked it slightly. _I’m sorry, little girl..._

“But—you can use floo powder. It’s generally alright and not too uncomfortable for the child.” Hermione nodded in understanding and held out her palm, and felt the sandy substance fill her hand, and tumble out when she closed it with her first.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the elderly woman (who smiled in return and nodded in her general direction), spoke ‘Malfoy Manor’ clearly and dropped the floo powder, gripping her stomach protectively as she felt the universe rip itself from reality.

She stumbled into the main hall of the manor, catching her breath and looking down at her stomach and stroking it, checking if it was upset or kicking. 

Turning towards the mess of floo powder she left on the shiny marble floor, she muttered a spell and it vanished at once. She looked around anxiously for any signs of Draco. The room suddenly felt cold, and Hermione looked up at the ceiling to see that the night sky was protruding brightly in the windows of the roof. 

She blinked in surprise. She had not felt time go all that quickly—and she now had a sneaking suspicion that Draco was asleep. Looking back down, she fumbled around with her fingers nervously; not exactly knowing what to do. Should she confront Draco and possibly risk their safety with the ring or leave it safe and sleep downstairs and talk gently about it tomorrow morning? She knew Draco was not exactly a morning person, but would it be better than waking him up to have an argument?

Suddenly a sharp convulsion ripped through her body, and a gasp escaped her mouth. She was suddenly shivering, and she glanced desperately at the fireplace on the side of the room, and waved her wand ( _Incendio)_ , and the fireplace immediately lit up; the red flames creating a sort of warm light that bounced across the room, and the manor instantly felt more homely.

She sat onto the black leather sofa, and tried to find a position in which she was comfortable, but also not hurting the baby. She groaned in frustration, and soon gave up. She felt a strange sort of pain overcome her chest, and she felt like she wanted to cry, but was determined to stay strong.

She clicked her fingers in a depressing manner, and a house elf (Mopsy, again, she was sure) appeared right next to her, with hands clasped together in a submissive manner while she stared at her feet. “What is it that mistress wants?” The creature croaked.

Hermione did not look at the elf, only stared into the flames that danced across the fireplace. The red mixed into the orange looked so familiar...her eyes felt as if they were going slack, as if in a trance, and she felt her neck bob as if she gulped, but she didn’t do anything. 

“Can you send for Draco, please?” Her voice did not waver, but she was scared. Whatever Draco was now, was not a teenage third year bully that she once faced alone, he was a grown man, and had anger inside him, and he could do a lot more damage to her than she did to him if he really tried. 

The elf clearly did not notice her internal conflict, and only nodded quickly, and disappeared with a _pop_.

Hermione closed her eyes, and took a deep, shaky breath in, preparing for the worst to come. Her eyes travelled down to her baby again. She placed a warm hand on her bulge, and spoke gently—almost a whisper. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you...” When she opened her eyes again, she could’ve sworn she saw Ron in the fireplace, and she almost burst into tears right then and there.

Then, Mopsy appeared again, looking at her mistress worriedly for a moment, before speaking in that small, croaky voice again. “Master Draco said he does not wish to speak with Mistress at this time,” the elf paused, as if unsure and then bowed respectfully, waiting for an order.

Hermione nodded at the elf and waved her hand to send the elf away. Mopsy disappeared with a pop, again.

As soon as she was gone, Hermione let loose, and felt tears stream out of her eyes. She stared angrily at the ground, watching her tears flood the floor. Her fist was clenched so tightly that she couldn’t feel the pain of her skin being pushed by her sharp nails anymore.

She slumped her shoulders in defeat, and looked up at the night sky for a moment, and felt a single tear tickle down her cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

“You need to confront him,” Lucius spoke next to her, setting the library books into the empty slots while Hermione read her own book (The Count Of Monte Cristo) whilst sipping her Earl Grey tea. He sighed at her ignorance and sat directly beside her, looking at her intently, calculatingly. 

Hermione looked up from her book and stared at him in annoyance. “I know I do,” She grumbled, “But if he wants to sulk all day in bed, then that’s far from my problem.” Lucius send her a glare worthy of the Basilisk.

”This is both of your problems!” He ground out between his gritted teeth, and he grabbed Hermione’s wrist tightly, making her grimace in pain. “That’s the problem with you two, and I’m sick of it. You are both so stubborn, that you refuse to apologise until the other one does—and then nothing gets solved.” Hermione gasped as the grip on her wrist tightened even more, and she could feel her pulse throb.

”Lucius, please, you’re hurting me...!” 

At once, the elder Malfoy’s grip softened on her, and then altogether let go. He stared at her with an apologetic look. “I am, however, being serious, Miss Granger,” he then turned back to sorting the books in the library, looking at her in the corner of his eye. “You must sort this out with Draco.”

Hermione raised her chin defiantly, and stormed out of the room, looking at her aching wrist when she knew that he wasn’t looking.

She crossed the main hall, grimacing as she realised that this was where she and Draco danced just after their wedding. It seemed like so long ago they took part in the blood ritual. She couldn’t help but appreciate the morning sunlight beaming through the window ceiling, beaming onto the marble floor of the ballroom, as if a spotlight, waiting for a lady and gentleman to waltz their way in, dazzling in the sparkles of the sun.

But Hermione was sidetracked when Emma bounded up to her from her sleep in her bed by the fireplace, and she yapped happily at Hermione’s feet. 

“Not now, Emma.” She spoke sternly to the puppy, and felt a twinge of sympathy when the grey animal’s ears went down, and her tail stopped wagging. 

She stormed up the staircase, not even bothering to hold her hand onto the golden rimmed banister. The old wooden flooring creaked under her movements, and when she got into her room, she _accio’d_ her wand from the drawers, drawing her fingertips gleefully along the intricate bumps of the vine, twirling up her weapon.

As she entered Draco’s office without even knocking, he looked up in surprise and his eyes narrowed. He then dipped his quill into his ink pot once more and began to write whatever essay he was doing for work. Hermione’s jaw clenched in annoyance at his blatant ignorance, and with a wave of her wand, his work papers flew from his desk, and into her hands, where she sent them away to the kitchen.

Draco looked at her defiantly, turning his chair around with his hands crossed together. “What do you want?” His voice was clearly tired. Perhaps he got about as much sleep as she did.

Hermione felt her forehead scrunch in anger. “You know perfectly what this is about.” She snapped. Draco got up, clearly acknowledging that he was about to have another fight with his wife.

When he did not reply (only stared back with those— _those_ —ocean blue eyes that hermione so deeply loathed), she took matters into her own hands. “You walked out of the medics house when it was revealed to be a girl,” she explained, her voice stiff as steel, “You said to me that you would be a good father—that you would be fine with this child being a girl.”

Draco’s lips thinned. “I am happy—(it sounded empty, so empty)—but you know I need a male heir.” Hermione’s sneer began to form intensely. 

“ _You fucking—_ I know that I need a male heir for Merlin’s sake! You keep ramming it into my head every time I see you!— you _and_ your father!”

Draco rounded on her, his eyes glinting wildly like a tiger that found it’s prey. _“Because it is required of me and my family,”_ he seethed, before both him and Hermione looked at each other’s rings to find the metal slowly turn orange. They broke the closeness of each other immediately.

When Draco felt that the sizzling molten heat of the ring die down, he spoke in a deadly whisper, “Not once, _not ever_ , has there been a female Malfoy born. It’s always been baby boy’s. Father thinks it was what was gifted to us—to not have little dolls running around the manor—but I personally think they casted some sort of curse on the gender of a child—“

”Well then you’ll have to suck it up and admit to having the first arranged, _female_ , _half-blood_ child in your family.” Hermione spat.

There was a pregnant pause between them.

Draco looked down at the ground, as if ashamed. “You need to get pregnant again, you know that, yes?”

Hermione blinked, and looked into those eyes that she desperately wanted to rip out. Those eyes that flared when in anger, the eyes that stare back defiantly when they copulated, _oh_ , those eyes that drove her absolutely insane. But behind the ice cold spectrum of his pupil, she could see, what was it? Sympathy? Guilt, regret? She didn’t need or want any of it. And, while this wasn’t his fault at all, he was the only person she loathed so much, and it was only natural to have a fight once in a while. Unhealthy, yes, but _entirely_ natural.

”I know.” She croaked out, and could feel the soft press of his palm against her back, and he was soon cradling her like a babe, and all that hate melted away. He was the only person she knew that wound her up like a clock, and she was the only person he had that gave him a challenge, and had flare inside of her unlike all of the receptive girls he had met in sixth year. He was arrogant, she was smart. He was witty, she was stubborn. He was dark, she was light. He was pure, she was not.

It was a match made in heaven.

 

 

* * *

 

The autumn cold hadn’t quite gotten to Hermione yet, and she still felt it was the right time to wear a small cardigan and long skirt that reached her calves. Draco, however was wearing a long waistcoat that was fully buttoned up, and his red nose was constantly pressed up against his green (rich Indian material, might she add) scarf, and his lips were already getting chapped; one couldn’t say that was the case for Hermione, who had her mahogany coloured lipstick—Witch Weekly’s famous permanent sticking one’s—that she couldn’t even rub off with her hand if she tried.

And they were walking in public—hand in hand, as a happy married couple would do—through the park, and Hermione appreciated the crinkled orange, yellow and red leaves that were beginning to fall from trees. The end of the path was full of paparazzi, the sharp flash of camera’s making Hermione dazed for a few moments.

Draco leaned into her, his lips grazing the edge of her earlobe, “Do try and smile for the camera, Missus Malfoy.” And Hermione smiled, it was fake, of course, but the crowd seemed to buy it. She could already see the headlines of the Daily Prophet: MALFOY COUPLE SPOTTED IN PARK; and she shivered for a moment, wondering if Ron would see it.

The truth was, they were actually going to the Ministry to make a little signing for their daughter. The public wanted to know all about it obviously, the public craved on gossip. And when they found out it was the first female Malfoy that would be born, ever, they latched onto that topic.

And as they walked away, the paparazzi soon grew fed up and noticed the couple’s fake smiles fading. Hermione didn’t look back. She could only hear the soft murmurs of the crowd backing away as she and Draco approached a red telephone booth—largely reminding Hermione of a muggle show she used to watch.

As they stepped in, Draco did the honours of pressing in the buttons, until he looked confused. Hermione turned and touched his shoulder lightly, as if to the crowd (who were still curiously watching them), she looked like a concerned wife. “What’s the matter?” She spoke softly, as if to a baby animal.

Draco cursed once, and gave up on the muggle machine. “You’re muggleborn, you work this thing.” He gritted through teeth, and then he noticed the people outside and he cast a notice-me-not spell and the glass of the telephone booth fogged up.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his attitude towards muggle objects. She pressed the buttons on the dial in the correct order that she could remember. The phone began to ring softly, (‘Stupid muggle artefacts, why can’t we just use the toilet transportation method?’ Draco mumbled, and Hermione shushed him). 

“Ministry of Magic, please state your name and business,” a monotone voice spoke through the box, as if speakers were surrounding them. Hermione leaned her ear into the telephone, trying to speak as clear as she could, “Hermione Granger, to sign the child registration form.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, Hermione thought she said something wrong, but then the monotone voice spoke through the receiver again. “Miss Hermione Jean Malfoy, please attach your badge to your robes before your arrival,” and as if on cue, some plain badges fell through the coin receiver. She pinned them to her jacker and Draco’s robe.

Then, the telephone booth shook for a moment before they began to sink slowly into the ground, and Hermione found herself standing in the corner of the box, trying to get some space for her large stomach. Draco tapped his foot impatiently as they waited.

Awkward silence. She hated awkward silences.

“Do you want to name the child?” Hermione asked, the realisation that they hadn’t talked about names at all seeped in.

To her surprise, Draco looked shocked at the suggestion. “Of course not. It should be you, if anything; you have to go through with all this.”

Hermione smiled faintly at him. It was nice of him to say that, but she never really considered names all that much. Though she knew that the Malfoy’s had sort of...regal names.

Rita...? No, it would remind her too much of that newspaper skank.

Angela...? Simple, but it had a nice meaning.

Then her mind suddenly clicked. She’d made her desision.

”I like the sound of Eloise.” She murmured, and Draco nodded. “It has a nice ring to it...Eloise Malfoy...but you need a middle name.”

Oh, that was easy.

”Jane. After my mother.”

And then, the telephone box made a ‘ting!’ sound, and the slow moving down stopped. Hermione stepped out and felt a wave of nostalgia. This could’ve been her home...could’ve been her job...

Draco clearly noticed her looking sad, and he led her to a queue of married couples waiting for a room that looked strangely empty. 

As they were waiting a couple in front of them looked anxious. Draco suddenly gasped, _“Wood?”_

The wizard turned around, and to Hermione’s shock, the former Quidditch captain looked so much older than she last saw him. He had a small tuft of a beard and a light scar on his forehead, most likely from a bludger accident. Wood smiled and shook Draco’s hand. “Hey, Hermione! I haven’t seen you since you were thirteen!” 

The witch paired to him turned around, and who does Hermione see, but the narrowed blue eyes of Percy Weasley’s former Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater. She improved her spots since the last time Hermione saw her, in fact, she looked professionally beautiful. While Draco and Wood were chatting eagerly, about Quidditch no doubt, Hermione leaned up against Clearwater.

”You’re muggleborn too?” Hermione whispered as the line began to shuffle closer to the door, in fact, Penelope was next. 

Penelope looked at her with a calculating expression, and then finally answered with a short, “Yes.”

Hermione looked at her stomach, and saw that she was around the same size as her. “I’m sorry about Percy,” she knew how it felt, to be separated from a Weasley. When Clearwater winced, she knew it was a sensitive topic and decided to change the topic. “First child?”

The blonde girl shook her head, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Second. First one is already two years old, three this November.” And then she was called into the room, and Hermione suddenly felt alone.

As she waited, she watched the clock move. It had been five minutes, and then Clearwater and Wood came out, looking rather normal. She was beckoned in by some sort of guard, probably an auror, and Draco squeezed her hand tightly.

She felt shock reach her quickly as she found the infamous man himself, sit on an armchair, his arms relaxed and smile flaccid. His skin was shiny, and seemed waxy, his teeth was a bright white and his hair was in neatly placed curls. The man’s hands thrummed on the desk in a sort of impatience, and she noticed a signet ring, an engagement ring and an emerald ring on several on the fingers.

It was Edison Hills, and Hermione suddenly felt rigid, until Draco gently moved her forward to his desk to write down her child’s name, estimated d.o.b, blood type and species.

Edison smiled at her, and it was a wide toothy one. “Please write down all the information you can give, Miss Malfoy,” and when Hermione reached for a black quill placed in a pile in the drawers of the desk, she asked him, “You don’t need to know everything, do you?”

Edison’s chestnut eyes darkened, but his wide smile remained still in place. “Of course not.” He replied curtly, his hands thrumming again.

Hermione pressed the quills tip onto the rich paper of the form, watching as the ink flowed and burned into the paper, probably forming some sort of binding. Hermione knew that this was necessary. The Ministry kept all the records of every witch and wizard born, including criminal records, divorces, etc... The words she wrote were round and clear:

_Eloise Jane Malfoy._

 


End file.
